


Of Bikes, Horses, and Fudge

by Granger4013



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Mackinac Island AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:32:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 198,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Granger4013/pseuds/Granger4013
Summary: Mackinac Island, Michigan where summers are eternal and winters are endless. Nestled within the waters of Lake Huron, Myka Bering has built a life, unconventional though it might be.  Few would truly call a life lived among only a handful of people, on an Island that doesn't allow cars or much else in the way of modernity, conventional.  Yet, despite the unique set of complications such a life brings, Myka is content; content with the company she owns, the horses she oversees, the friends she loves.  Who needed conventionality anyway, as long as you were happy?  Little did Myka know that all it would take for her contented life to be turned upside down though was for H.G. Wells to finally take her best friend up his offer to come spend a summer on the Island, living, working, and everything else in between.





	1. Arrivals

**Author's Note:**

> And so we embark on this little journey of summer love and everything that that entails. I will admit a deep soft spot for this story because I grew up in Michigan and I adore the Island, but I will also admit that this story has filled me with way more anxiety and nerves than necessary.
> 
> For some context, Mackinac Island is a tiny, tourist thronged, beautiful place set amidst the Great Lakes. Transportation on the Island is only through bikes, horses, or carriages; there are no cars allowed and thus it's a bit of a step back in time. Few people actually live on the Island year-round, but once summer arrives it is alive with summer workers, tourists, and part-time residents. It is home to the Grand Hotel and many other odd, little quirky places, that I hope through this story you'll grow to love as much as I do. 
> 
> A huge shout out of thanks to @MuddyPuppy for beta-ing and for putting up with my "oh god what if this sucks" anxiety.
> 
> Enjoy the ride all!

1\. Arrivals

No one should be up this early. It was inhuman. It was irrational. Any other day of the year, it would be utterly and completely _intolerable_. However, today was not any other day, and if Myka wasn’t acutely aware of that fact down to her very last cell, the bold, striking red circle around the date on her calendar which hung in the kitchen would have reminded her of it immediately. April 12. It had been the first date on the calendar to be marked with any sign of significance when the new year had rolled around, but Myka knew that the gesture was purely symbolic. At this point, this day was so imprinted into her internal clock that she knew she probably didn’t even need to set an alarm, her body would know, would _feel_ the shift in the air. 4:30 in the morning on the second Sunday of April, every year, no matter the weather, no matter the turning of the rest of the world, no matter how anyone on the Island was feeling, no matter what, today, this morning, another season began.

Myka could already feel the change settling into her bones, old rhythms kicking back into gear, new plans beginning to form, her mind already careening forward days, weeks, months ahead to make sure that her little corner of the Island was _ready_. If it wasn’t…well, that was simply an unfathomable thought. Her corner of the Island had to work, had to run like clockwork, prepared for any and all contingencies, otherwise everything would be out of balance, and nothing, _nothing_ could be out of balance once summer began on Mackinac Island. 

She breathed in the heady, rich aroma of her coffee, letting the warmth seep through her, letting it prepare her for the long hours that were to come. Her brain was already churning through the checklist of things that had to get done today, the order that they had to come in, the proper procedures, the what ifs, the backup plans in the event something went wrong. No matter the summer, no matter the year, today of all days was always the most stressful. Once today was over she knew she would be able to breathe easier, and hopefully, everything would just start moving and flowing in the rhythm it was supposed to, like the well-oiled machine it was, like the well-oiled machine Myka had honed it into over the last five years. 

The light clicking of nails against hardwood was enough to pull Myka’s focus away from her steady stare out the kitchen window. She glanced down at where Trailer was slowly, very much _unwillingly_ plodding out of the bedroom, his eyes still heavy with sleep, pleading with her the unspoken question of why on earth they were up when it was still dark, when the air still hung thick with cold, when no one else but them was awake. He collapsed with a huff at her feet, all fifty-five pounds of his English shepherd frame exuding exhaustion. He nestled his head atop Myka’s feet, settling against her ankle bones with the clear intention of not letting her move from where she stood at the kitchen sink. A small, amused chuckle left Myka’s lips as she looked down at him with a pitying glance, “I hear ya bud…this hour is not for the Bering household.” 

Trailer’s eyes barely lifted to acknowledge that he had heard Myka’s voice, before veritably sighing once again and seeking to return to sleep, albeit on the cold kitchen floor rather than in the warmth and comfort of Myka’s bed. She kneeled down next to him, extracting her feet from beneath his chin, and rubbed softly behind his ears, placing a kiss to the dip of his forehead, “We’ve got to get used to it though…from here on out it’s 5:30 wake up calls. Summer is starting…” As though sensing the truth of Myka’s words, Trailer let out a small, high pitched whine, eliciting another small chuckle from Myka, “Don’t give me that… _you_ get to go back to bed once I leave.” 

A soft pinging sound broke through the quiet of the house. Myka rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what it was, _who_ it was, and pulled her phone down from where it had been resting on the counter. She continued to stroke at Trailer’s ears as she slid open the text message.

_Pete: Rise and shine, Mykes! Time to get this party started! The lady shall be at your door in five._

Myka couldn’t resist her smile. Pete always approached the new season with a bit more _exuberance_ than the rest of them, perpetually ready for another five months of the continual onslaught of early mornings, late nights, and more tourists than you could feasibly maneuver through. Then again, this was Pete’s thirty-first summer on the Island, while the rest of them were always playing catch-up to that number, convincing their bodies, their minds, their equilibriums that this summer would be the season that they officially got used to the lightning quick shift in the mood of the Island, that this would be the summer that the mornings didn’t feel so early, that the little hours of sleep didn’t matter. Myka knew that after twelve years of Mackinac Island summers, she should be used to it by now too, immediately ready to shift into gear, raring to go, but without fail, despite the joy she got from it, despite the way that the summers filled her with ease and contentment, they always took some getting used to, some convincing that she was once again ready for the insane, incessant pace. 

She stood, moving into the living room to retrieve her bag while she typed out a response to Pete.

_Good morning to you too, Lattimer. I’m ready whenever she gets here. You’ll come by and let Trailer out later?_

_Yes ma’am. Time for a little pup and Uncle Pete time._

_You are without a doubt the strangest human being I know…_

_And love, Mykes, don’t forget love._

_Oh yes, how could I ever forget that?_

The sound of footfalls against the porch steps followed quickly by a knock on her front door brought a swift end to Myka’s attention to Pete. She knew once that door opened, the day’s business would begin and she needed to be absolutely focused. She shot off a last quick text to Pete.

_Kel just got here. We’ll see you later. Thank you for watchin’ the pup._

_No problem. Be careful out there._

_Will do._

Myka tucked her phone into her pocket, watching with amusement as Trailer, apparently no longer tired, was sitting perfectly still other than a wildly wagging tail at the door, anxiously waiting to see who was on the other side. He gave a small bark, indicating that he was anything but happy with Myka’s lack of hurry to open it up. 

Kelly’s voice carried through the door, slightly annoyed, “I agree with your dog! Let me in, woman, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

Myka rolled her eyes and finally pulled the door open to be faced with a bemusedly frustrated Kelly, arms folded up tight, the flush of her cheeks evident in the glow of the porch lights. Myka stepped back to let her in, “You can blame your husband for the delay.”

Kelly’s eyes widened in apparent surprise, “I’m impressed he’s still up. Usually that early morning _joy_ lasts for about ten seconds and he’s back to sleep.”

Myka shrugged, unzipping her backpack for one last check to make sure she had everything she needed for the morning, “First day of the season excitement I suppose…”

“I don’t know about him, but I’ll be excited once we get this morning over, with everyone and everything in one piece.”

Myka lifted her eyebrows, “Tell me about it.”

Kelly passed a hand over her forehead, her fingers already flexing and moving with anticipation and nerves, “I swear this is the worst day of the year.”

Myka slung her backpack on, giving Kelly a slightly whimsical look, “No…the worst day is when they leave. At least today, despite the stress, they’re coming back.”

“That’s true…” Kelly kneeled down to where Trailer was patiently waiting by her side. She scratched down his sides, “Hi big guy…how ya doin’?”

Myka chuckled softly, “He’s good…due for his check-up though.”

Kelly nodded, already aware of the timing, the need for those things. Being the only full time veterinarian on the Island required such diligence, especially when so many of the Island’s animals felt like _hers_ , seeing as she was the one very much in charge of their well-being if something went wrong. She scratched against Trailer’s neck, still looking and apparently talking only to him, “We’ll get the _big_ , big guys back and settled then I’ll give ya a look over, how does that sound?” 

Myka glanced at her watch, they needed to be down to the dock in ten minutes, “That sounds good, but we’ll never get the big, big guys back if we don’t get out of here.”

Kelly patted Trailer’s sides and stood, while Myka leaned over and kissed his head, “Back to bed, I’ll be home later.”

Trailer cocked his head to the side and then slowly, contentedly it seemed, plodded back to the bedroom. Kelly laughed soundly, “You and your animals.”

Myka smirked, “What can I say? I am nothing if not adored.”

Kelly rolled her eyes, opening the door back up, shooting Myka a glance over her shoulder as she moved onto the porch, “You say that now. You know they always hate you a little bit after today.”

Myka reached around and gave her backpack a loud pat, “That’s what the sugar cubes are for.”

“Bribery… _nice_.”

Myka chuckled as she locked the door, “Hey, whatever works to keep them in my good graces. I have four hundred horses to keep happy this summer, it takes what it takes.”

Kelly flipped up the kickstand of her bike where it sat on Myka’s sidewalk, settling herself onto her seat and blowing warm air against her hands, while Myka untied her bike from the porch. Myka gave her a pointed look, an endeared smile, “Do you think there will ever come a day when you don’t look like you are on the brink of freezing?”

Kelly rolled her eyes, flipping Myka off as they both started pedaling through the streets of Harrisonville, heading towards the main hill which would lead them past the Grand Hotel and down into town. Kelly flexed her fingers around her handles, “The answer to your question is _no_. I am _counting the days_ until it is ninety degrees and the rest of you are miserable.”

Myka gave a soft pulse to her brakes, trying her best to ease down the steep incline of the hill so as not to fly past Kelly. She raised her voice above the wind rushing around them, “At least this winter wasn’t terrible. It certainly made getting the stables ready easier.”

They leveled out at the bottom of the hill, both of them falling into a gentle pace. Kelly glanced over at Myka, suddenly all business, her entire demeanor shifting as they neared the docks and the start of the day, “So everything’s ready to go? Anything I need a head’s up about? Any last minute updates from Steve?”

Myka’s mind immediately filtered back through her mental checklist, the tiny details she needed to be acutely aware of in the coming hours, “He said they all seem pretty healthy, again thank God for the mild winter. As of last night when I talked to him, everything seemed like it was ready to roll.” 

Kelly laughed, but it was slightly hollow, almost nervous, “Ready to roll…as though hauling four hundred horses across the lake is as simple as that.”

Myka sighed, her own nerves starting to elevate the closer they got to Main Street. No matter how many times she had done this, no matter how many times she had been _in charge_ of this, it never got easier, it never got any less nerve-wracking. Kelly was right, there was nothing simple about getting the horses back to the Island. Most people tended to think that the horses, a perpetual staple and icon of life on the Island, were year-long residents along with the several hundred people who held that distinction, but the truth of the matter was, every year, they were all, save for a handful that _were_ year-rounders, were hauled back and forth across the Straits of Mackinac in the hollow bellies of the Arnold ferries. Every season was the same, they left in mid-October, some leaving as early as Labor Day, to return in the opening weeks of April, a surefire sign and signal that the Island was once again coming back to life after a winter that always ended up feeling endless. 

Myka knew that there were many others in her shoes, that there were other stable owners, other seasonal residents who would make this trek, load their horses onto whatever means they used to cross the Straits to get them back home, but for Myka, this day, this job, this _responsibility_ always felt just a bit more weighted, because in so many ways, her horses were the ones that so many had come to recognize and associate with life on the Island. It was a step back in time to come here, to step onto streets that knew nothing but the beat of horseshoes and the steady thrum of bike tires, to hear nothing but the sound of tourist patter and boat rudders around you, to fall asleep to the sound of the clip-clop of hooves rather than car horns, and Myka knew acutely that it was her horses, the horses that showed tourists the Island, that pulled them along on antiquated and nostalgic carriages, that made that sense of other-worldliness truly sink in for many. It was her four hundred horses of the Mackinac Carriage Tours that made people feel like they had truly stepped into another place, another time, another world entirely, and that was not something she took lightly. She knew that over the next five months, her horses would pull hundreds, _thousands_ of people through the streets and trails of this place, her employees would give tourists a true introduction to life here on the Island. She never failed to remember, to reminder herself that it was her company that stood so tall in maintaining the reputation and grandeur of this Island, her home. 

So while it was true that they had a system, a method, a tried and true _process_ , that she could entrust Steve to do his job and Kelly to do hers, it didn’t keep Myka from feeling like she could either throw up or pass out or _both_ when this moment fully and finally arrived. She was always ready to get the horses back, to have them back in her sights, under her protection, but she always feared that this would be the year that one part of their system would fail, that this typically smooth process would finally hit a rough patch. 

She and Kelly arrived at the Arnold dock with mere minutes to spare, though they might as well have been late for the reaction they got from Captain Artie Nielsen who was furiously pacing across the docks, hands raking through his curly gray hair, mumbling something undetectable under his breath. When he saw them, his outburst was instantaneous, “Finally! Every year, it is the same schedule and yet, every year I find myself wondering if I am going to leave this dock without either of you.”

Myka rolled her eyes, chuckling playfully as she clapped Artie on the shoulder, “Happy first day of the season to you too, Artie.”

“You _are_ aware that we have four hundred horses to move this morning?” Artie huffed.

Kelly stepped up next to them, head buried in her medicine bag doing one last check, happy that Artie couldn’t see the incredulity on her face, only hear it in her voice, “No, Artie, I think we both just thought we were up this early for our health.”

Myka drew in a dramatic deep breath, letting it out slowly, “Ah…yes, I am absolutely up in the freezing cold and in the dark all for this _lovely_ lake air.”

Artie continued to grumble under his breath, before finally throwing up his hands, “Just get on the damn ferry.”

Myka shot Kelly a sidelong glance, both of them clearly attempting to reign in their laughter. Kelly bumped against Myka’s shoulder, “Same conversation, different year.”

“Good to know some things never change.”

Kelly grinned, “Damn right, now let’s go get your babies.”

**

The ferry eased into the dock with a more exaggerated heave than usual, an unfortunate byproduct of the fact that there were only a handful of people aboard and most of the seats, and thus _weight_ , had been removed so that there would be room for horses in the lower deck. One of Artie’s crew, a young kid Myka didn’t recognize pulled the ramp down onto the dock, giving them a thumbs up that everything was ready for them to disembark. 

Myka couldn’t keep her knee from jangling up and down, thumb nail wedged between her teeth. Kelly settled a hand against Myka’s knee, stilling it momentarily, “Deep breath over there. It’s just another year. You, me, and Steve. We got this.”

Myka closed her eyes, giving herself one final moment of pause, before steeling her shoulders and giving Kelly a bright smile, “Another year, another season. Alright, Doc, let’s do it.”

They stepped off the boat and into utter chaos, _controlled chaos_ it seemed, but chaos nonetheless. The entire Arnold’s parking lot was covered in horse trailers, and the tension of everyone involved was immediately evident, heavy in the air, accompanied by shouts of direction, mixed and mingled with high pitched neighs from most of the trailers. 

Kelly lifted an eyebrow at Myka, “Already restless, should be fun.”

Myka grinned, already, _immediately_ , feeling in her element, “Remember…that’s what the sugar is for.” She moved with assured steps across the dock, waving to some of the handlers where they were trying to keep their charges calm. With each step, Myka felt her muscles sink and shift into her summer self. This was her job, this was who she was, this was what she loved. She had a place here, despite her youth compared to many of the other employees, they knew she was in charge, deferred to her opinion and instruction, just as they had been doing since she took over the company when she was twenty-five. They knew she had earned her keep, learned the ropes well, received instruction from some of the best, and so they trusted her to do her job, and do it well, making everything run smoothly with a smile on her face, and above all keeping the horses safe and healthy. 

At the far end of the parking lot, Myka just made out the unmistakable stance of Steve Jinks. She could tell, even from this far away, that he was already in full on in-season mode. His posture was relaxed, thumbs hooked in the back pockets of his jeans, but she could tell that his jaw was set, his focus sharp as he gave instructions to another of Arnold’s ferry captains. It’s part of what she loved about Steve, why she had immediately chosen him as her second in command when she took over the company; he was calm and patient to a fault, but he was also fiercely committed and had a bit of the same perfectionist streak that Myka possessed herself. 

As though he sensed the shift on the dock, Steve turned from his conversation to look directly at Myka. A relieved, _ecstatic_ smile broke across his face, and she saw him turn back to the captain, giving him a clap on the shoulder, before taking up a light jog to meet Myka halfway down the dock, immediately engulfing her in a hug that lifted Myka clean off of her feet. They hadn’t seen each other since October, when the last of the horses had been brought back across the water from the Island. Steve lived in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan during the off-season, residing in Pickford with his husband Liam, where the majority of the company’s horses were paddocked for the winter. They were his charges for those few months, while Myka returned to the Island for some much needed time off. 

Steve returned Myka to her feet, placing a small peck against her cheek, “It’s good to see you partner.”

Myka’s smile was overwhelming, the anticipation of another summer starting to creep through her veins, “God, it’s good to see you too.” Myka looked around the parking lot, forehead crinkling in question, “No Liam?”

Steve shook his head with an air of dismay, “Not this year…he’s sick as a dog. Spring cold has him completely laid up, so we figured best for him to stay home, try and get some sleep so he doesn’t have to call in for a sub tomorrow.”

Myka nodded, “Good call…still,” she grimaced slightly, “it sucks you didn’t really get a proper last day send-off.”

Steve shrugged with a dampened sigh, “Yeah…I know…but…only a couple months and he’ll be up here too, so just gotta get through.”

Myka eyed Steve carefully, trying to read whether he was truly alright or if this was something they’d have to deal with later. He seemed genuinely and generally at ease, so she let it go, not wanting to push, to question. Steve and Liam lived a life that few of them were capable of dealing with, but it worked for them and so none of them chose to question it. Liam was a schoolteacher, and because of that, he stayed in Pickford until mid-June, and only then came up to join Steve for the rest of the summer. Steve stayed on the Island until mid-October, even while Liam returned home in mid-August, so there were always a few months of the year where their marriage existed through Skype, FaceTime, and phone calls, but they seemed to make it work. Theirs was the longest relationship going in Myka’s group of friends, and given her own track record, she knew she was in absolutely no place to judge, so she listened when it was hard and when it was too much, and she trusted that all was well when things were easy and when it all just _worked_. 

Steve caught the hint of Myka’s discerning gaze, knowing well enough just what the look implied. He let out a sigh, which came out more like a wisp of a laugh, “Myka, I promise you, I’m ok, really. Honestly…I’d feel a lot better if we stopped talking about it and just got down to work, it would help distract me.”

Myka raised one, single pointed eyebrow, wanting nothing more than to argue the point, but conceded it under Steve’s calm gaze, “ _Fine_ …however, later this week once everything is settled, I’ll buy you a beer and you can tell me exactly how _ok_ you really are.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Deal.” He leveled Kelly with a pleading look, “Isn’t she usually tired at this time of day? Aren’t you usually annoying her by this point so that she doesn’t focus on anything else?”

Kelly let out a dancing sort of laugh, “Wow…do you guys really need a vet here, because I’m sure I could get a ride back to the Island.”

“No, no, _no_ ,” Myka gripped against Kelly’s elbow where she was starting to turn and walk back down the dock. “Ok, _business, four hundred horses to move_ , focusing.”

Steve’s face fell into a slight grimace, a hand coming up to run distractedly over his closely cropped hair, “I may regret the request to get to work when I tell you what I have to tell you…”

A momentary shot of panic raced through Myka’s pulse, Steve wasn’t one for worry or extreme concern, but the look on his face said that’s exactly what he was feeling. “What’s going on?” The words flew out of her mouth before she even really knew she had said them.

Steve let out a small groan, “ _Nothing_ , really, every last one of them seems like they’re in good shape…however…”

“However?” Myka couldn’t keep the edge of worry out of her voice.

“Tesla seemed like he was fighting a bit of a limp this morning. He had seemed fine last night, so maybe he just slept funny. I’m, in fact, _sure_ that that is what it is, but I figured I’d give you a heads up to keep you from freaking out.”

“Oh Jesus…as if that’s possible,” Kelly muttered under her breath.

“Where is he?” Myka was already pushing past Steve, eyes scouring the parking lot for the trailer she was looking for, the one she knew would be carrying the two horses she was most desperate to get back on the Island.

Kelly and Steve jogged up behind her, Kelly nudging Steve’s ribs with her elbow, “Tactful…you might as well have told her he can’t walk.”

Steve threw up his hands with a helpless air, “I didn’t know what else to say. If I hadn’t told her and she saw him, she would have had my ass.”

“You’re damn right about that,” Myka shot over her shoulder, feet still racing across the pavement.

“Myka…Myka…slow down, I know where they are. Come on,” Steve caught up with her and tugged her down a row of trailers until she saw the tell-tale burnished copper and silver of the trailer that always carried Tesla and his team partner, Farnsworth, back to the Island. 

Myka ran the last few steps to the trailer, where their driver was already working on the doors, ready to get them out and lined up for the ferries. “Shane,” Myka let out a bit breathlessly, “can I give you a hand with them?”

Shane let out a booming laugh, eyes immediately darting to Steve, “Man, you called that one right, didn’t you?” Myka could hear Steve’s groan behind her, but her eyes never left Shane, who finally stopped laughing enough to give her a sympathetic look, “Steve just warned me that you’d want to see them this morning is all.”

“How were they on the drive? How are they?”

Shane clapped a hand to Myka’s shoulder, “They’re fine, Myka. The drive went smoothly. They are perfectly and completely _fine_.”

“Steve said Tesla…”

“Was limping, yeah, but I think he just needs to stretch out a bit. You know he gets antsy by the end of the winter. Get him back hitched up to a carriage and he’ll be good to go.”

“Kel…” Myka shot a pleading look to Kelly.

Kelly nodded, “Get him out, I’ll take a look before we load them up.”

Shane tugged the trailer doors open, revealing two massive Percheron horses, one completely and totally black, the other its polar opposite, all white, save for his hooves. Their heads perked up the second the doors were opened, both of them immediately recognizing Myka, each of them letting out a noise that was an odd cross between a whinny and a short nicker. Myka stepped up onto the ramp, her upheld hands immediately met with the cold, wet, velvet of both of their noses. The black-haired horse pushed harder into her hand, seemingly in an effort to draw most of Myka’s attention. Myka let out a soft chuckle, immediately acquiescing to the desire for attention, stepping completely in front of him, running her hands up and down his neck, “Hi Tes…” He moved his head to nudge against Myka, eliciting another chuckle, “My big guy…how are ya feelin’?”

Next to them, Farnsworth let out a loud snort, shaking his head in frustration. Shane called up, “You’re playing favorites and pissing off your children there, Myka.”

Myka turned around and leaned into Farnsworth, placing a kiss to his snout, “Big baby, I missed you too…I just need to look at your brother.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out a sugar cube, eyeing Kelly playfully, before offering it to Farnsworth’s greedy lips. She patted against his side, “There…that will keep you happy for all of ten seconds.”

She returned her attention to Tesla and started undoing his tethers, preparing him to get out of the trailer. Once he was ready, Myka led him slowly down the ramp, immediately noticing the way that he was favoring his back right leg, unwilling to put as much weight on it as possible. The look she gave Kelly was instantaneously panicked. 

For all of her teasing, Kelly knew how much these horses, particularly _these two_ horses meant to Myka, and so she reigned in all commentary, stepping up and stilling Tesla’s movements, hands running over his sides to remind him of her presence, her scent, her feel. She spoke in low, soothing tones to him, “Leg botherin’ ya, huh, Tes…let’s take a look.” She nodded her head towards Myka, “Will you stay up front with him, keep him calm. I don’t feel like starting the season off with a kick to the head.”

Kelly knelt in the parking lot, hands running all along Tesla’s leg, feeling for anything out of the ordinary, listening to see if any particular movement or touch seemed to hurt him. He remained placidly still, letting her run him through his full range of motion without any apparent discomfort. Kelly stood with a sigh, moving back towards Myka, “I think it really is just stiff. Probably a rough night’s sleep, made worse by an hour in the truck being jostled around. I’ll put a wrap on it, but I’m sure once he gets a little bit of free reign this afternoon he’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?” Myka’s teeth were fervently racing across the corner of her lip, nerves and concern at the ready.

Kelly nodded with ease, “I’m sure. He didn’t seem like he was in pain, he let me touch all over that leg. I really wouldn’t be too worried. We’ll keep him monitored for a few days, but he’ll be back to his old self in no time, Myka. Come on, it is _way too early_ in the season for this level of worry.”

Before Myka could respond, the walky-talky attached to her hip crackled with the voice of Bennett, another one of her senior summer employees, “Boss? Nielsen is getting jumpy over here. He’s ready for the first load.”

“Jesus…” Myka groaned. She detached the walky from its clip, “Alright, Steve and I will be right there to help load.” Myka turned back to the horses placing a kiss against the flat of Tesla’s nose, before hopping into the trailer and doing the same to Farnsworth, “You two be good. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Steve slung an arm around her shoulder when she had jumped out of the trailer, “Aren’t you just _so ready_ for another season?”

“I will be once this morning is over, and once I’m sure Tesla is fine.”

“Ooook,” Kelly’s voice piped up behind them, “I’m going to start doing my rounds, otherwise Myka won’t let me out of her sight, and that wouldn’t be productive. I’ll see you guys in a bit. If you need anything just radio me.”

It took the better part of the morning and every single one of the Arnold Ferry fleet, but eventually every single horse made its way across the Straits, with everyone, horses and people both, relatively in one piece. They took the horses across in four ferry shifts so that either Myka, Steve, Bennett, or Kelly was each on a ferry with about thirty horses. It made things take a little bit longer, but it was one of the things that Myka insisted on. She knew the people she absolutely trusted with making sure that the trip across went smoothly, and when it came to getting the horses back on the Island she wasn’t interested in cutting any corners or taking any risks. Luckily, it was something everyone else agreed upon too, not questioning the need to treat the entire morning, the entire process with care. Arnold only sent its most experienced, its most trusted captains and crew out for this particular morning, and Myka did the same, and because of that, in her five years of being in charge of this transport, she had never once had any problem larger than choppy waters and a few sprained ankles on a couple of the ferry crewmen. 

It was always the most overwhelming day of the season, no matter how many times Myka had witnessed it, done it. She never ceased to tear up when she led the first load of horses back onto Main Street for the first time, as all of the Island year-rounders, along with whatever summer staff had already arrived lined the sidewalks to cheer and applaud, welcoming the beloved horses of Mackinac Island back home. There were always a handful of people who stayed out and watched for the entire morning, watched every horse make their way back up to the stables. Pete’s mom, Jane, was one of them. She’d been doing it since she was a little girl, and she never ceased to be there for all the hours it took.

As Myka watched Steve unload the last, smaller group from the final ferry, she stole across the street to where Jane was sitting with a beaming smile on her face. When Myka approached, Jane stood immediately, ready to throw her arms around Myka, surrounding her in a tight hug, “ _Well done_ , dear girl. _Well done_.”

Myka chuckled, Jane gave her the same compliment every year. She returned the hug willingly, before settling onto the arm of Jane’s beach chair, which she had put up on the sidewalk, yawning deeply, “Just a few more to get up to the stables and then we are off and running.”

Jane rubbed a hand against Myka’s back, “And let me guess…despite that yawn, you’ll be in the stables the rest of the day?”

Myka chuckled with a self-deprecating shrug, “Probably. You know how it goes, once the season starts there is _zero_ time for sleep. I can sleep in October.”

Jane didn’t respond to that, just gave Myka a slightly annoyed, slightly incredulous, distinctly _Mom_ look, before letting out a soft sigh, “Your grandparents would be proud, Myka,” Jane’s voice was soft, considerate, knowing the emotional weight of her words.

Myka’s laugh was watery, a vain attempt to hold back the tears that were always _right there_ when someone mentioned her grandparents, “What? Of my inability to get a proper amount of sleep during the season? Somehow, I think Gram would have had a few words to say about that…”

Jane chuckled quietly, “That she would have…but no…not of that…you know exactly what I mean, Myka. The way you handle things like this morning, the way you care, the perfect balance of whimsy and seriousness you bring to this job…they would be so very proud.”

Myka sucked in a rattling breath, biting down on her lip to stall her tears. She gave a quick nod, her voice tight, “I hope so. It’s hard to not think of them on days like today. Pap always loved today, just took it all in stride. Somehow, I failed to inherit his calm demeanor in stressful situations.”

Jane let out a gasp of a laugh, then stated matter of factly, “That’s probably because you have failed to adapt his tradition of taking a shot of whiskey before getting on the ferry in the morning.”

“What?” Myka’s eyes widened.

Jane’s chest heaved with laughter, her hand coming up to squeeze against Myka’s knee, “ _Oh yes_ , every year, he and his entire crew would pass that bottle around, _just once_ , before starting out. I think he didn’t want your innocent picture of him tainted by letting you see that.”

“Ha! _Yeah_ …innocent picture. I lived with that man for far too many summers to keep that image alive.”

“Well, take this as yet another lesson for you from Pap, _whiskey_ dear girl. Just a little _whiskey_ and suddenly, goodbye stress.”

“I’ll try to remember that. Alright,” Myka leaned down and left a kiss against Jane’s cheek, “I’ve gotta go…stables to run, horses to see…”

Jane stood, folding up her chair, “I’m off as well. Only a few more weeks of all this time to myself and then the tourists descend and I forget that ‘retirement’ is a word in my vocabulary.”

Myka grinned, “Yeah, but which are worse, tourists or schoolkids?”

“Depends on the day,” Jane winked. She squeezed Myka’s hand tightly, “I’ll see you later. _Do try_ to get a nap this afternoon. Otherwise you’ll never survive the night…”

Myka’s brow crinkled, “And what is tonight?”

Jane’s laughter echoed down the street, “Oh, Myka. Us old-timers are _well aware_ of Wolly’s parties. Believe it or not, we all remember what it felt like to kick off a new season…though many, _many_ of those memories have thankfully already been forgotten, and _good riddance_ to _that_ embarrassment.”

Myka smirked, “Hey… you aren’t _that_ old, you could come tonight, embarrass your son…”

Jane paused, pretending to consider, before chuckling, “No…this Island is your generation’s now…the rest of us have had our fun.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “The start of the season makes you _woefully_ sentimental, did you know that?”

“I did indeed. Now, _promise me_ , you’ll nap.”

Myka sighed, “Yes, _Mom…_ ” 

“Good girl.”

**

Despite Jane’s adamant requests, Myka couldn’t bring herself to find even a few scant minutes to sneak in a nap through the afternoon. The best she could manage was allowing herself to go home a few times to check on Trailer, let him romp around the backyard, run himself out until _he_ was absolutely ready for his own nap, but beyond that, Myka couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , allow herself to stop. She loved being in the stables in the first few moments and hours of the season, everything felt new and brimming with possibilities. The horses always seemed to know, to feel that they were _back_ , and so their spirits were usually high, the noises of their excitement echoing through most of the barns, and sometimes out into the streets. 

Myka only allowed herself to check on Tesla twice, though she would have attempted to do so more if Kelly hadn’t caught her the second time and let fly a string of swearing in Spanish that Myka was _positive_ she didn’t want to understand. Regardless of which language Kelly yelled at her in, the message was clear, _everything was fine_ and Myka needed to _back off_. 

Finally, after another round of the stables, making sure that everyone, employees and horses alike, were settling into their proper places, Myka collapsed behind her desk, pulling up the summer schedule on her computer. She’d spent the last few weeks finalizing the intern list, making notes of which teams would go with which intern, how much training each group would need, which sessions of training each person would need. She was quietly thankful that for once she was facing a summer with very few new kids, but mostly returners who wouldn’t need a lot of new training, who already had horses that they were comfortable with, who already knew the jokes, the facts, the general vibe of what was expected on the carriage tours. It would make the next few weeks significantly easier and much less stressful. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate having a new batch of kids to train, but sometimes it was a lot, and it was nice to get a break, and feel as though things could just start moving without a lot of extra prep work. 

Just as she was finalizing the first week’s schedule, just as she was thinking that _maybe, possibly_ Jane would get her way and she would catch a small nap in her office, her phone buzzed to life. She popped open the text from Pete.

_Twenty minute warning: The children are about to descend._

Myka grinned, first day of the season traditions, some things never changed, and for that she was immensely grateful. She tucked her phone into her pocket and scooped up her keys, heading back out into the stables and shouting for Steve, “Hey Jinx! It’s time…”

Steve’s voice filtered out from about halfway down the second row of stables, “Be right there!”

There was a small grunt, followed by a clattering of what sounded like a pile of shovels and a muttered, “Dammit,” before Steve emerged from the stables sweat-soaked, dirty, and smiling. He bounded up to Myka, “It feels _so_ good to be back.”

Myka arched an eyebrow at him, “That didn’t sound particularly _good_ back there…”

Steve waved a dismissive hand, “Just tripped, no big deal.” 

They wandered out the stable doors, a slow trickle of other employees following behind them, all directing their steps towards Main Street once again. Every year was the same, the first morning of the season brought the horses back to the Island, the first afternoon brought the first wave of summer employees. The first wave was always a bit more eclectic than the cavalcade of people who would descend in early May. Mid-April brought more of the older crowd, retirees who chose to spend their summers living and working on the Island, middle-aged people who wanted to mix things up a bit, change their routine for a summer, those who split their time between the Island and the Mainland, living in each place in six month shifts, and of course those whom Myka and Steve were most looking forward to, the college kids who had graduated early or who had worked their schedules to leave school early in order to be there for the season right from the beginning.

When Myka and Steve got downtown, the streets were already starting to fill up with locals, with employees who were already there, anxiously awaiting the latest arrivals. There was a charge in the air, everyone could feel it; the Island was coming back to life. 

They spotted Pete in a prime location, sitting atop the Carriage Tours stand on Main Street, directly across from the Arnold dock. When they got closer, Myka couldn’t hold back her laughter, placing a light punch to his shoulder when she saw him, “ _How the hell_ do you already have fudge? None of the stores are open yet.”

Pete grinned victoriously, “I went in a day early for some ‘pre-season training,’ got the first fresh batch all to my sweet self.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “Because after almost fifteen years of making fudge every summer you need so much practice.”

“Hey, hey, hey…those six months off take their toll. Gotta make sure that these guns,” he flexed exaggeratedly, “are ready for another summer.”

Steve covered his groan with a choked out kind of laugh, “ _Right_ …please don’t do that again.”

“Oh come on, Steve-O, it’s _summer_ ,” Pete flung his arms out wide, “get in the _mood_ , get in the _groove_ , man.”

“Oh boy…” This time Steve didn’t bother hiding his groan.

Myka rolled her eyes, pushing against Pete’s thigh encouraging him to scoot over so she could join him atop the Carriage Tour stand counter. Once she had hopped up she leaned over and stole a bite of the large piece of chocolate fudge in his hand.

“Hey!” Pete snatched the fudge away, “ _You_ don’t eat sugar. _No stealing, woman!_ ”

Myka smirked proudly, “Oh come on, Lattimer, it’s _summer_ , I’m getting in the _mood_. My sugar avoidance is powerless in the face of the _summer groove_.”

“Need I remind you two that it is _technically_ still spring?” Steve teased.

Pete and Myka both shot Steve dismissive looks, causing him to throw up his hands, “No, right, _summer_ , absolutely already summer.” Before either Pete or Myka could respond to Steve’s mocking, his phone jarred him out of the conversation. When he looked at the screen, he couldn’t contain his smile. He turned his phone around, wiggling it at Pete and Myka, “Claud’s fifteen minutes out.”

Pete pumped a fist in the air, “And soon the gang will all be here. Are we to assume she’s also ferrying with the young lads?”

Steve smirked, “I would say that’s a pretty safe bet.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “And so another summer of ‘will they, won’t they’ and with whom will they or won’t they begins.”

Pete let out a small kind of snort, bumping Myka’s shoulder, “You know you love the drama.”

Myka leveled him with a sidelong stare, “Yeah…that’s not quite accurate. I _tolerate_ the drama as long as it doesn’t mess with my carriages running on time or my horses being taken care of.”

“You’re starting to sound like my mother,” Pete passively commented.

Myka groaned, “ _Don’t_ …just don’t say that…” She sighed, “You’re right, I guess. I really don’t mind it, and _yes_ , I have, _on occasion_ , enjoyed hearing Claud’s gossip, but this summer is different. I’m…” she shot a quick glance at Steve, : _we’re_ giving Claudia way more responsibility this summer, and I just want her to be focused.”

“She will be, Myka. You know she will be,” Steve’s smirk was unreadable.

“What exactly does more responsibility entail when basically all of your kids do the same job?” Pete asked.

Steve’s smirk deepened, “Myka is giving her The Inventors this summer.”

Pete’s eyes widened as he choked around a too large, hastily bitten piece of fudge, “I’m sorry, _what?_ ”

Myka rolled her eyes, “It is _not_ that big of a deal.”

Sarcasm dripped from Pete’s every word, “Oh no, no big deal at all. You’re just letting one of your kids take your team out for the first time ever. No, no big deal. I am absolutely not scanning the horizon for impending doom or the incoming apocalypse. Nope, nope, totally normal thing to happen.”

As hard as she tried, Myka couldn’t contain her laughter, “ _Ok_ , yes. It is a big deal, but it’s going to be a big season, and we have way more kids this year, and I am just not going to have time to do tours, neither is Steve, but someone has to take Tesla and Farnsworth and Claud is the only person I would trust with that job. _Plus_ , we are putting her into a supervisory role too. She’s running some of the training this year, so it isn’t _just_ the horses.” Myka shot a quick, adamant look at Steve, followed by a playful wink.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, to say something smart about the fact that Myka had hemmed and hawed about entrusting Claudia with her horses for _months_ , in spite of all her self-proclaimed trust now, but his phone buzzing kept him from responding. He pulled it from his back pocket, glancing at it with a smile. He wiggled it in front of Myka, “Speak of the devil. Claud says her ferry is the next one in, so she should be here soon.”

Pete clapped his hands, despite the melted chocolate still on his fingertips, “Yes! And so the season begins!”

Myka flinched away from Pete’s flying, fudge-covered fingers, “You are disgusting, _exuberant_ , but disgusting.”

Pete grinned, utterly pleased with himself, “Something you have known since you were, I believe, _five_ years old, Mykes. You can’t get rid of me now, I’m stuck on tight.”

“Indeed. Stuck on with fudge I believe.”

“Runs in my veins baby, runs in my veins.”

“Ugh,” Steve shuddered, “please do not call her baby…”

“I would second that,” Myka teased. Suddenly, as if just recognizing something that was right in front of her, Myka turned to Pete with a quizzical look, “Isn’t our little welcoming party missing someone?”

Pete shrugged, “Kel texted and said she was going back over to the stables from the office, that she might not make it down here on time.”

“No, I know that, we passed her on the way down here…I meant, _Wolly_. Usually he’s here, bouncing up and down, giving you someone to point your enthusiasm towards.”

Pete nodded with a chuckle, “Trust me, he’s here. Trust me, _he’s bouncing_.” Pete pointed a finger down towards the end of the dock, “He is bound and determined to be the first one this mystery friend sees when she gets off the boat.”

“ _Right_ ,” Myka nodded her head in remembrance, “I totally forgot about that with the insanity of the morning. This is the childhood, culinary school friend, right?”

“The very one.”

“Wait,” Steve interrupted, “isn’t this the one that he’s been trying to convince to come up here _for years_ , but she’s always refused?”

“Once again, the very one, Steve-O.”

“So why is she coming up now?”

Pete jumped off of the counter, clapping a hand against Steve’s shoulder, “That, Steve my man, is the million dollar question. Wolly, usually talks a mile a minute Wolly, has been completely mum on that front. Just said she’s finally coming up and he can’t wait.”

Myka kicked her feet back and forth against the counter, her eyes never straying from where she had spotted Wolly, face buried in his phone, at the end of the dock. Curiosity and skepticism interwove through her tone in equal measure, “That seems weird, right? I mean, we’ve all known Wolly for _years_ , and only ever heard him talk about this woman, and _now_ she finally is coming up, and he doesn’t say why. I’m sorry, that’s weird.”

Pete smirked, leaning back and resting his weight on an elbow against Myka’s knee, “Look at you Myka Bering, all doubtful and dubious, and seemingly scrounging for gossip. I thought that was my job.”

Myka leveled a punch against Pete’s shoulder, eliciting a high pitched, “ow” followed by him moving distinctly out of arm’s reach. Myka smiled, teasingly satisfied with herself, “I’m not _dubious_. I just think it’s weird. However, I will withhold judgment until I meet her.”

“Well,” Steve glanced at his watch, “give it another fifteen minutes and we’ll see how you feel. If Wolly’s _bouncing_ is any indication, she’s probably on Claud’s ferry.”

“Ooo maybe she’s hot!” Pete snapped his fingers as though he’d just solved a mystery they had all been agonizing over for decades, “ _Maybe…maybe_ Wolly has been pining for her since they were little and he thinks this summer is finally his chance to make his move.” Pete wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh my God,” Myka hung her head, “we are _so_ in for a drama filled summer.”

“Come on, Myka,” Steve nudged an elbow against her thigh with a coy smile, “you know, no matter what, that’s _every_ summer. ”

“Ugh…that is way too true.”

**

At the end of the dock, Wolly’s phone continued to vibrate over and over, text after text, never giving him ample time to respond to any of his best friend’s running commentary.

_I am surrounded by teenagers. Very loud, very obnoxious, very hormonal teenagers._  
I hate you. For convincing me to do this, I hate you.  
Is this how everyone on your Island behaves? Loudly and wildly? 

Wolly rolled his eyes, he could hear her tone perfectly, that crisp inflection which could cut through ice when she was in a _mood_ , and lately, given everything, Helena was always, _perpetually_ , in a mood. He chose to ignore the continued vibrations and simply typed out his response.

_They’re kids…free from college for the summer. They’re excited. Trust me, you will be living far, far from any of them, and you won’t be working with any of them either, so ignore them and enjoy the scenery._  
Right now, you have some of the best views of the Island…appreciate how gorgeous your home for the next few months is.  
Also…you bloody adore me so bugger off. 

Despite her alleged, what he truly knew to most likely be _feigned_ , annoyance, Wolly couldn’t stop himself from continuing to strain his neck down and around the dock, willing the ferry to arrive sooner, wanting to get that first glimpse of it pulling in. He’d been trying to convince Helena to come visit, to come work for a summer ever since his own first summer, which led to his first year, working and living on the Island. For years, he had failed miserably at every attempt, up until now, and despite the circumstances he couldn’t help his excitement. His phone, once again, buzzed three times in quick succession.

_It is…quite beautiful. I will give you that._  
The pictures you have sent haven’t done it justice…I can imagine as summer closes in it will only become more beautiful and I will admit that would be nice to see.  
And…yes…I begrudgingly admit that I do, in fact, adore you, most dearly. 

Wolly chuckled to himself, inwardly proud that he was already winning her over, that he was already convincing her that she would love life here, if even for a few small months. He couldn’t help himself from typing one last text as the first tell-tale sounds of the ferry were emerging.

_Trust me…by the end of the summer you won’t ever want to leave._

**

Atop the upper deck of the Arnold ferry, cool, crisp, almost biting wind tugging her hair back to dance behind her shoulders, Helena Wells let her eyes, once again, drift from the quickly approaching scenery back down to the text displayed on her phone. As another shout of laughter arose from the back of the ferry, Helena shook her head with a slight air of frustrated incredulity. Wolly truly never stopped trying, and she knew he wouldn’t for the rest of the summer. Her eyes drifted back to the Island…it was beautiful. There was no question about that, but still…

She hastily typed out her response.

_Oh my dear William…I highly…highly doubt that will be the case._


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> H.G. finally meets the gang and learns a little bit about each of them in the process, though some more than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who gave such awesome feedback on the beginning of this story. Here's hoping you all enjoy the next little piece!
> 
> As ever, thanks to @MuddyPuppy for the beta-ing :-)

A thrill of excitement chased its way up Myka’s spine as the ferry finally made its final, slow curve into the marina, coming to an even, steady stop nestled up against the dock. Even from across the street they all could see the shock of bright red, practically fluorescent hair bouncing up and down on the upper level of the ferry, which could only signal the arrival of one person…Claudia Donovan.

Steve turned to Myka and Pete with a giddy smile, “Let the summer begin!” As they watched the crowd of college kids on the top deck of the ferry begin their slow descent downstairs, Steve couldn’t keep himself from beginning to rock back and forth on his heels, before shrugging and taking off at a jog towards the end of the dock, shouting over his shoulder, “I get her first!”

Myka shook her head with a chuckle, “Those two…”

Pete grinned with a small laugh, “They are an eternal mystery.”

Myka arched an eyebrow his way, kicking a foot towards him and catching him on the hip, “Ya know some people would say the same thing about us.”

Pete smirked, hopping back up by Myka on the counter, “Us? We’re no mystery, Mykes. I wore you down when you were six years old, from then on you have been forever susceptible to the Lattimer charm, to the point that _now_ you wouldn’t know what to do without me.”

Myka rolled her eyes, but tipped her head to rest against Pete’s shoulder briefly, “Sadly that is far too true.”

Before Pete could respond they both watched with less than subdued laughter as Claudia practically ran down the gangway, accompanied by a subsequent shout of discontent from Captain Nielsen which she readily ignored, and launched herself into Steve’s open and waiting arms. They watched as the steady stream of people coming off the ferry gave them a wide berth, as Steve swung her around, her legs flying every which way. 

Steve and Claudia’s was a friendship that none of them had expected, Steve and Claudia included. On the face of it, they were polar opposites in every possible way. Claudia was a twenty-two year old tech geek with a penchant for hacking and outrageous outfits. She played the electric guitar, was unafraid of offering up the honest truth in as loud of a voice as necessary, and was always quick with a sarcastic comment riddled with as many pop culture references as possible. Steve on the other hand was in his late twenties, and had spent his entire life living amongst the even stability of taking care of Mackinac’s horses. He was quiet, into meditation, and was always willing to hear each side of every story, unwilling to pass judgment too quickly, if at all. He was the quiet, subtle flash of lightning to Claudia’s uproarious, always noticeable thunder, and yet…they worked. They worked in the way only two people who somehow managed to find the person who was meant to be their best friend, despite what everyone else thought of that friendship, could. 

Theirs was a friendship born out of a balancing act of each other’s extremes, bonded and founded upon a similar path of childhood, which simply led one of them to live life out loud, while the other instead chose to live quietly, with as little fuss as possible. They’d both lost their parents, one by a cruel happenstance of fate, the other by choice, but the scars, the aftereffects, lingered and were shared. Claudia’s parents had died, along with her older sister in a car crash when she was fourteen, leaving her to the slings and arrows of a foster system that had little care for a teenager that was struggling with _growing up_ , especially when that fact of life was accompanied by a steady stream of grief and confusion, which led down pathways of depression and suicidal tendencies because there was no one _there_ to walk with her through the darkness. She had a brother, ten years her senior, who was as present as a computer screen allowed, having moved to Switzerland for work immediately upon graduating college and never looked back, not even when his kid sister’s life fell apart, even when circumstances dictated that _his_ life probably should have fallen apart too. Joshua grieved, he comforted Claudia as best as he could for a few weeks, and then once again escaped to a life that made sense, a life that didn’t include the trauma of raising his baby sister through the hardest time of her life.

Steve, on the other hand, had chosen to walk out the door on the life that had been laid before him when his parents first and dominant reaction to his telling them he was gay when he was seventeen was for them to tell him he was going to hell. He had packed his bags, crashed on his then boyfriend’s family’s couch for the rest of his senior year of high school, and then moved out of the state, and out of his family’s lives without a single look back. He had put his head down and decided to just _live_ as best he could, as honestly as he could. He had met and fallen in love with Liam when they were juniors in college. They’d gotten married and set up their lives, commuting across the waters of the Great Lakes every summer. They made life work in a way that made them happy. Yet, everyone that knew Steve, Claudia especially, knew that beneath his calm, quiet exterior roiled regret and frustration that there was a _hole_ , a hole that remained unforgiven and raw, a hole in the shape of parents skipping their own son’s wedding, a hole that looked like years of therapy just to get to the point where he could see the hole and call it what it was. 

Claudia and Steve had found each other Claudia’s first summer working on the Island, when she discovered that life amongst the water and the horses and the bikes provided the perfect, subdued sort of balance to the life she lived at school, going five hundred miles a minute in a thousand different directions. Summers on the Island gave her pause and respite, and before she knew it, her summers here had brought her a different kind of _family_ , just as they had for Steve. They had spent their first summer side by side, tending to the horses, fixing the stables, putting new computerized systems in to keep Myka organized, and in the midst of it they had shared who they were, where they came from, and realized that in each other they had found the sibling, the confidante, the best friend they’d never imagined needing, but could no longer live without. 

In truth, they all had their reasons for coming to the Island, for staying however long they stayed, but for Claudia and Steve it became quickly evident that they had come to the Island to find each other…even if they hadn’t planned it or expected it to turn out that way. 

A bubble of contentment grew within Myka’s chest as she watched Steve and Claudia approach, Claudia perfectly couched within the confines of Steve’s arm around her shoulders, both of their smiles wide, ecstatic. It was the same feeling every year, which sometimes threatened to overwhelm Myka with sheer, unadulterated _joy_. It was the feeling that her family was back, that she once again got to embark upon months filled with too late of nights shared around a campfire with a few too many cases of beer, too early of mornings when she would hand a groggy and barely awake Claudia a cup of black coffee to help her emerge into consciousness, weeks and months filled with all of _them_ just doing what they always did every summer. They worked far too hard, for far too many hours, and then proceeded to treat their down time in the exact same way, resulting in all of them being sunburned, exhausted, and nothing but ready to do it all over again by the end of the summer. 

Both Pete and Myka hopped down from the counter as Claudia finally came close enough to sprint out of Steve’s hold and collapse into their waiting tangle of arms. Claudia pulled quickly out of the hug with a bright, already teasing smile, “Boss. Petester. The young people have returned to keep you from getting old and boring.”

Myka’s laughter was unrestrained, “Wow…nice to see you too, Claud.”

“Oh you know you missed me. You always do.”

“She’s right, Mykes. Plus, since we are getting _old_ , we do need her around in case any of us forget how to turn on a computer.”

Steve smirked, running a hand over the top of his head, “And so we pick up right where we left off in October.”

Claudia bumped Steve’s hip with her own, “Damn right, Jinxsy. Isn’t it nice to know that some things, like my _winning_ personality, never change?”

“I don’t know if nice is the word I’d use for it…” Steve mumbled.

“Speaking of things that never change,” Pete leaned over to whisper to Myka as he jutted his chin towards the two unbelievably skinny boys who were walking towards them. 

Myka grinned, “The entourage arrives.”

The two boys joined their small circle, their greetings a bit more subdued than Claudia’s, though no one was any less pleased to see them. Despite their tendency to follow Claudia around like puppy dogs, each of them desperately vying for her affection regardless of how uninterested Claudia seemed in said intentions, Todd and Fargo, _Douglas_ though everyone called him Fargo, were still, inextricably, a part of their little crew. They were just as much a part of the group as the everyone else, even if most of the time they all wondered if the two would ever have spoken to any of them if Claudia hadn’t been in the picture. The three of them were all students at Michigan Tech, completely inseparable, down to their shared majors and future prospects in computer science, who decided that they didn’t get enough of each other during the school year, so they obviously needed to spend their summers together too. 

When Myka had hired the three of them the summer before their freshman year at Tech, everyone, Pete and Steve included, had been skeptical, because how exactly were three kids who spent most of their time in darkened rooms in front of computer screens going to fit into the outdoor world of the Island. Myka had sensed something in them though, something she couldn’t quite label, other than possibly seeing in them kindred spirits who needed time away from their everyday lives to just exist amongst people who would simply let them be who they wanted to, as long as they didn’t mind a little hard work. The three of them had proven that first summer to be immensely capable and now, as Myka looked at them, on the brink of their last summer here, she wondered what she would do without them when the next season rolled around.

A low whistle from Pete pulled Myka out of her thoughts, thankful for the distraction, because there was no point in thinking about the end of the summer when it hadn’t even begun yet. Pete’s gaze was leveled once again towards the end of the dock as he stuttered out, “I…I believe the British have arrived.” 

Everyone’s eyes turned in time to see a woman with long, flowing dark hair descend the gangplank, a distinctly _skeptical_ look on her very pale face. Steve gave a small chuckle, “Damn…I hope Wolly warned her she would need _a lot_ of sunscreen…otherwise, she’s in for a long summer.”

Claudia stood on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse of who they were talking about. She turned back to them with wide eyes, “ _That’s_ Wolly’s friend? Man, she seemed _really_ annoyed with all of us on the ferry. She had her head buried in her phone most of the time.”

Todd’s voice piped up slightly, “She doesn’t quite look like she’s the Island summer kind of gal…”

Myka rolled her eyes, bumping into Todd’s shoulder, “I said the same thing to Pete the first time all of you pale, skinny kids stepped off the ferry, so I’d check that judgment…”

Todd gave her a small, embarrassed kind of smile, “Good call, boss.”

“Still,” Pete commented, “she doesn’t look particularly _thrilled_ to be here…” His words died in his throat as the woman finally found Wolly amidst the crowd, her steps quickening to be immediately scooped up in his arms. Pete snickered, “Well, well, _well_ …maybe she is thrilled. Shall we all start taking bets on how long it takes for _that_ to go down? My money is on two weeks…any other takers?”

Steve grinned, “I’m in for a month…”

Myka rolled her eyes, muttering, “Jesus…you two…” but she found she couldn’t really put her heart into admonishing them, she was too busy concentrating on the woman still being held in a tight hug by Wolly. A not necessarily unfamiliar flutter ran through Myka’s stomach, one that she willed, _demanded_ , to shut up and go away, because _that_ was just not what she needed right now. Yet, there was no denying…this woman, Wolly’s best friend whom they’d all heard so much about, was devastatingly, _heart-breakingly_ gorgeous. Her stomach gave another lurch, her blood pumping a bit faster, just enough to make her fingers tingle with adrenaline. _God_ …this was not good.

Pete shot Myka a sidelong glance, taking in her apparent concentration on the end of the dock. He waved a hand in front of her space, “Yo! Earth to Mykes!”

She shook her head to refocus the attention she had apparently lost, “What? Sorry…just…just appreciating how beautiful the lake looks right now is all.” Thankfully at just that moment, Myka’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She looked at the message, muttering, “Shit…” She gave them all an apologetic look, though her mind was already far from the street and back up the hill, “I’m…I’m sorry guys, I have to go. Kelly needs me up at the stables.” Myka’s thoughts was already racing with all the things that could be wrong, her mind already on Tesla, on what would happen if…

Steve’s hand gripped around her elbow, “Do you need me to come with you?”

Myka waved him off, “No, no, stay here. I’m sure it’s nothing.” She gave Claudia another hug, whispering to her, “I am _so glad_ that you’re back, Claud.” She gave Todd and Fargo another beaming, welcoming smile, before turning to Steve and Pete, “Tell Wolly I’m sorry I wasn’t here to meet the best friend.”

Pete gave her small smirk, “Will do.” Myka nodded and turned to head back towards the stables before Pete’s voice called her back, “ _Do not_ forget about the party tonight, Mykes! Otherwise, Wolly _will_ murder you.”

Myka turned back and rolled her eyes, “As if I could _ever_ forget one of Wolly’s parties.” She waved over her shoulder, shouting, “I’ll see you all later.”

As they all watched Myka turn a corner and disappear from view, Claudia’s voice piped up, a hint of restrained incredulity in it, “Ok…we can all agree that the _lake_ was not the beautiful thing she was admiring, right? Like that was the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

Steve gave a small snort of laughter, “I really hope she didn’t think she was being subtle…”

They all turned to Pete, expecting him to put in his two cents, never one to shy away from teasing his best friend who was usually a bit more restrained when it came to her _attention_ , but what greeted them wasn’t Pete’s characteristic smile and good-natured banter, but rather a forehead knit in some kind of strained concentration. Eventually, his eyes strayed away from the end of the dock and back to the group around him. He gave them all a small, non-committal shrug, “I don’t know…she had a point…the lake _is_ pretty beautiful right now.”

**

Wolly’s booming voice echoed to them across the street, “ _Why_ am I not surprised that all of you are already huddled together ignoring everyone else around?” Wolly jogged up to them, his friend following a bit slower in his wake. He threw an arm around Steve’s shoulders, “All is officially well with the world since your crazy crew is back together.”

Steve grinned with a nod, then quirked his head towards the woman standing uncertainly on the cusp of their small circle, “You know, Wolly, you’re going to make us all look like inconsiderate, unwelcoming jerks if you don’t introduce us to your friend there.”

Wolly’s smile grew impossibly wider, “Right you are, Steven!” He ushered a hand behind him, “ _This_ , my humble lads and _lady_ ,” he shot a wink at Claudia, “is my best friend, Helena Wells. _H.G._ to most people. Hel, this is Pete, Steve, Claudia, Fargo, and Todd…the insane people whom I call my family.”

H.G. gave them all a polite, though uncertain smile, “Nice to meet you all. I must say, I have heard _quite a bit_ about all of you, which I’m sure you can imagine since I would gather you’re all very familiar with William’s _exuberance_.”

“Ooo, someone who’s allowed to get away with calling Wolly, _William_. I didn’t think that person existed,” Pete teased. He shot a hand out, giving H.G. what he hoped was his most charming smile, “Welcome to the Island, H.G. I’m Pete, and I’m sure everything Wolly told you about me is true…so I apologize in advance.”

That earned Pete the first true smile H.G. had given to anyone that wasn’t Wolly, “I will bear that in mind…he was rather _colorful_ in his descriptions.”

“We are colorful people, H.G. Colorful people whom you will come to know and absolutely adore.” Claudia grinned and gave H.G. a small wave, “Claudia, by the way, resident computer geek and purveyor of all things awesome. Also… _H.G. Wells?_ ”

H.G chuckled, her demeanor already beginning to soften and ebb under the boisterous welcome of Wolly’s friends, “It’s rather a long story, but indeed, yes, the very same.”

“Man, Myka will get a kick out of that…or at least her bookshelves will,” Claudia smirked at Pete, who merely returned her comment with a small, tight smile.

Wolly’s eyes roamed around their circle, “Speaking of which, _where is Myka_? She’s usually front and center for the welcoming party.”

“Called up to the stables. Tesla was a little off this morning…” Steve stated.

Wolly’s entire demeanor sank and shifted, a fact that H.G. caught quickly, well aware of how sensitive he was to the emotions of the people he cared about, “Is everything alright?”

Steve nodded slowly, “Should be. I don’t think it’s a big deal, but you know…”

Wolly’s eyebrows raised knowingly, “Myka and her boys…indeed, I know…”

“Myka is the carriage company owner, correct?” Helena queried politely.

“Man, Wolly really did give you all the details didn’t he?” Pete smiled at her, already seeming to realize that this woman whom they had judged so quickly upon her descent from the ferry was possibly not the woman they’d been expecting.

Wolly squared his shoulders with pride, “I take my details very seriously. Had to let Helena here know what she was getting herself into coming to spend the summer amidst all of you people.”

“All of us people…he says as though he can’t stand us,” Fargo’s voice was laced with a teasing sarcasm which was always present on the scant occasions he actually spoke more than a few words.

Wolly rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to H.G., “ _Ignore them_ , and yes, Myka is the very same person you described. I’m assuming you’ll meet her this evening at the party…” He shot a quick, questioning glance towards Pete, which Helena saw, immediately wondering why Pete was the one this was directed towards. Her mind attempted to piece through all the _details_ Wolly had given her, but she came up woefully, _regrettably_ , short on that particular front.

Pete nodded with a smile, “You know Mykes, she wouldn’t miss that party for the world.”

“Good!” Wolly slid an arm around H.G.’s shoulders, “You’ll love Myka. She’s much _tamer_ than this bunch here.”

H.G. smiled softly, “You’ve told me I will love _everyone_ on this Island, so I believe for now I will take that statement with a grain of salt, William.”

Wolly laughed softly, “You _will_ love everyone. We are all _immensely_ loveable.”

“Except Pete…Pete’s _annoyingly_ loveable,” Claudia teased.

“Hey, hey, _hey_ , don’t give her a bad impression of me right off the bat, it’s not fair.”

“Don’t worry, Pete, I shall withhold judgment until you’ve proven yourself annoying.” Helena shot him a quick wink, an indication of her soft, just getting to know you, teasing.

Pete chuckled, “Ya know, H.G. I have a feeling you’re going to handle all of us just fine.”

“And before that statement gets proven wrong too quickly, what do you say we go and check out your apartment? Make sure your bags got delivered to the correct location,” Wolly asked H.G.

“Sounds good,” H.G. nodded softly, giving everyone in the tight circle a small smile, “It was very nice to finally meet all of you.”

Wolly gave her a bright smile, apparently _thrilled_ that the introductions had gone so seemingly well. He tugged on her shoulders, giving them all a quick backwards glance, “See everyone tonight!”

When they left Claudia stepped up next to Steve, “Think she’ll survive the summer?”

Steve shrugged, eyes still following their retreating forms, “I don’t know. Meeting all of us isn’t exactly the easiest way to jump into things. We’re a lot to handle.”

Claudia rolled her eyes, “Understatement of the year.”

“She seems nice enough though…I mean underneath the blatant nerves and uncertainty of wondering what the hell she’s gotten herself into.”

“Ah…the perennial question we all face when we step off the ferry…” Claudia mused dramatically, the back of her hand coming up to rest across her forehead.

“You’re a dweeb. A huge, _gigantic_ dweeb.”

Claudia wrapped her arms around Steve’s waist giving him an exaggerated squeeze, “Oh you love me, Jinxsy.”

“Something like that…”

“So…Jinxsy…still holding onto your side of the bet even after our dear Myka’s admiration of the _lake?_ ”

Steve smirked, “For now…yes…but ya never know. This Island, _summers_ on this Island tend to cause weird, highly unexpected things to happen.”

“Just another thing to make the summer a little more exciting,” Claudia grinned.

Pete’s voice rose up behind them in a small mutter, “Yeah…as if we are _ever_ short on excitement around here.”

**

Myka didn’t get to the party until it was already in full swing, which if she was being honest, with Wolly’s parties, usually took all of five minutes, but regardless, she knew her absence during the first hour of the party would be noted and endlessly _commented_ upon. Kelly had brought her back up to the stables to give her the full, absolute utmost of assurances that Tesla was in fact fine, as evidenced by his comfortable trotting around the paddock, all traces of discomfort from the morning seemingly gone. Still, Myka had needed convincing of her own. She had decided to take him out for a small ride, just to be _sure_. A small ride turned into a longer ride once he was out on the trails, sensing that he was finally _home_ and wanting nothing more than to keep Myka going and going for as long as possible. By the time she got him back to the stables, the party had already started and she was in woeful need of a shower, so she decided she could risk the censure of her late arrival in lieu of showing up feeling disgusting.

Wolly’s backyard ran right up against Myka’s backyard, so she simply let herself in through the back gate, attempting to move through the throngs of people congregated around the small bonfire in order to get to the house. When she finally managed to make her way through the back door and into the kitchen she wondered, not for the first time, how Wolly managed to pull this off every year. 

His parties were becoming things of legend on the Island, particularly his start of season party. Everyone was always so excited to get back to work and reconnect with friends they hadn’t seen in months, and that exuberance coupled with Wolly’s desire to throw _the best_ party possible usually resulted in barely controlled chaos. The crowd was an odd combination of seasonal workers, college kids, and some of the year-rounders, all crammed into Wolly’s not necessarily huge house, surrounded by too much alcohol and music that would eventually become way too loud. Myka was thankful that she had at least seemed to have arrived before _that_ particular moment. Things were a bit crazy, but she could at least still hear herself think.

Myka moved through the kitchen, extracting a beer from the refrigerator on her way, while making small, passing conversation with some of the people she recognized amidst a sea of many new faces. Eventually through the throng, she heard the tell-tale signs of the people she was seeking out.

Pete’s voice resounded from the living room, “Damn straight, graduated _second in my class_ , H.G.”

Myka shook her head with a chuckle. Pete used the _same damn line_ with every person he met. She stepped into the living room, leaning against the exposed beam of the entrance way, watching as the woman from the ferry, Wolly’s friend, take in and process the information Pete had just thrown at her. She looked skeptical, something which Myka gave her full credit for, because usually people just _succumbed_ to Pete’s charm. Pete still hadn’t seen her, so she called out from behind him, “Yeah, out of _how many people_ , Lattimer?”

“ _Dammit!_ ” Pete turned around with a groan, his head thrown back, raising his fists in mock frustration, “ _Uncool_ , Mykes. When the hell did you get here?”

Myka smirked, weeding her way through the living room to where their small group had gathered in one of the corners. She laid a soft punch to Pete’s shoulder, “Just got here…apparently right in time to save this poor woman from your exaggerations.” She gave Wolly’s friend a soft smile and nodded her head towards Pete, “Go on, ask him how many people were in that graduating class of his?”

H.G. turned an intrigued look to Pete, arching her eyebrow in question, without uttering a word.

Pete hung his head, muttering to Myka, “I hate you.” He looked at H.G. and shrugged, holding up two fingers.

H.G. let out a lilting, incredulous wave of laughter, “ _Two?_ Two people were in your graduating class?”

Pete nodded sheepishly, “Slings and arrows of growing up on the Island, some classes are really, really small. What can I say,” he leveled a playful gaze at Myka, “not all of us can be _valedictorians_ of our massive high school classes.”

Myka felt a small blush crawl into her cheeks, though she couldn’t quite place _why_ she was blushing at Pete’s playful, oft repeated, tease. She shrugged lightly, trying to pull herself back into some kind of recognizable form of herself, before returning her attention to Wolly’s friend. Myka gave her a bright smile, holding out a hand, “I’m Myka, by the way. I kind of missed the introductions earlier today.”

H.G. clasped Myka’s hand lightly, trying to ignore the way that Myka’s enchantingly long fingers danced across her wrist with enough contact to set her pulse off-kilter. H.G. forced herself to keep her calm composure, “H.G., nice to _finally_ meet you, Myka Your friends have been rather _effusive_ in their commentary about those who weren’t yet present.”

Myka rolled her eyes, still not letting go of H.G.’s hand, “Oh Jesus Christ, ignore them, _all of them_ , or just ask me whatever you want to know about them. They tend to forget that I have plenty of _their_ secrets stocked up too.”

H.G. dropped her a quick, barely noticeable wink, before unwillingly loosening her hold on Myka’s hand, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Pete cleared his throat in a poor attempt at subtlety, breaking whatever moment had suddenly descended, “So…Mykes…your tardiness…explain.”

“Does that need an answer? That woman was at the stables, because she _still_ doesn’t believe me when I say her horses are _fine_ ,” Kelly’s smirk overrode the layer of offense in her words.

Myka flicked Kelly off playfully, “I _believe_ you…but…”

Kelly laughed brightly, “ _But_ …you absolutely needed to find out once and for all.”

“Some people would call that diligence.”

“Other people would call it obsessive,” Kelly playfully shot back.

“Or the characteristics of a workaholic,” Steve joined in.

Myka leveled him with an incredulous look, “You’re going to pull that thread, Mister I’m at Work an Hour Before Everyone Else?”

“Hey…you never know, maybe this summer is the summer I decide to take up sleeping in. Let you do all the work for once.”

“I’ll take ‘Things that will happen when hell freezes over’ for five hundred, Alex.” Claudia shook her head at Steve, “Face it, Jinxsy your head would explode if you slept in.”

“Plus…if you got there late you’d miss your morning coffee with _us_ ,” Fargo commented.

“And God knows _no one_ should miss that,” Todd finished.

Despite the very obvious fact that they both were head over heels for Claudia, it hadn’t stopped Fargo and Todd from forming their own brand of friendship which they all found odd, but endearing. 

“And so the party is complete!” Wolly’s voice boomed across the living room as he made his way to their corner, slinging an arm around Myka’s shoulders, “I thought you had chosen to bail on us this year. I was wondering if I was going to have to hop the fence and pull your ass out of bed.”

H.G.’s eyebrows rose up, “Hop the fence?”

Myka gave her a small smile, “We really have to stop saying things with the assumption that you’re going to totally know what we’re talking about. I live behind Wolly.”

“Yes, she is just a literal hop or skip or jump away, just have to clear the fence.”

“The day I see you hop, skip, or jump _anywhere_ , William, well, Claudia, how did you put it? Things that will happen when hell freezes over?”

A chuckle escaped Myka’s throat almost involuntarily. She shoved a light elbow to Wolly’s ribs, “ _Finally_ , we have someone around who has dirt on _you_. We have been woefully lacking on that front.”

Wolly shrugged, throwing his arms wide open, “Say what you want! I am an open book…”

“Careful there, William, you might not like the results,” H.G. said calmly, despite the wicked glint that was readily apparent in her eyes.

Wolly took a long drag of his beer, “I am not afraid of you _or_ your vague threats, Helena.”

“Oh? Shall we talk about the night you fell in the Thames then?” H.G.’s smirk was a flash, a hint of teeth, hidden behind a devastatingly innocent, coy smile. Myka fought the urge to simply keep staring at that smile, regardless of what anyone else might think of that action.

Wolly’s eyes widened instantly, rambling out, “Who needs another drink? Anyone? Just me? Right…be right back.”

H.G.’s laughter danced through Myka’s ears in a way that was nothing short of distracting. H.G. shrugged and took a sip of her whiskey as though nothing had happened, “A story that is only fun to share when he is here to relive the embarrassment, so alas, he is saved for the time being.”

The conversation shifted and once again swirled around topics which H.G. had anything from little to absolutely zero passing familiarity with, yet she had no desire to follow Wolly around his own party like a helpless child, so she opted to stay where she was, idly nursing her drink and letting the conversation ebb and flow around her. The time was not necessarily wasted, giving her ample time to observe and process a bit about the people she was quickly realizing she would be spending most of the next five months with. Wolly had always been adamant that they were like his family and she could see why, they were all warm, entertaining, playful. She wondered if eventually she would feel at home here, amongst these people, if eventually she would feel like one of the group. Yet, deep down she doubted if that was possible in one summer, especially in one summer that was going to be a _one time thing_. She swiftly decided that in the end it didn’t really matter, there was no pressure to fit in here, to be a part of anything, all she had come up here to do was simply live, work, and hopefully enjoy herself a little bit. She just hoped that maybe, at some point, she would at least feel _comfortable_.

There was one thing in particular that became readily apparent to her as the night progressed however, and that was the fact that despite her initial, passing hints of shyness, Myka Bering was absolutely _not_ shy, but was rather quite feisty, with a ready, open laugh, and a coy, teasing comment always on the tip of her tongue. There was an openness, a relaxed sort of charming calm about Myka that simultaneously set H.G. at ease and made her inordinately nervous, possibly due to the fact that she was the last person to display such casual openness and nonchalance, yet that seemed to be what she was surrounded by. It also, _certainly_ , didn’t help that Myka was blindingly attractive in a way that H.G. could tell was completely unconscious to Myka. She had a natural tendency to push her riot of curls back from her forehead every few minutes, which was doing ridiculous things to H.G.’s breathing, despite the fact that no one else around her, especially Myka, seemed even remotely aware of it. 

There was a natural chemistry that seemed to exist between the people surrounding her that suddenly made H.G. feel out of place, uncertain of _why_ she was standing there. If it hadn’t been for Myka occasionally shooting her a question or a small comment or clarification on what they were talking about, always followed by a smile that seemed almost apologetic for the chaos, she probably _wouldn’t_ have continued to stand there.

Eventually, as the conversation hit a rare moment of silence, Kelly eyed them all with a look that was just this edge of dangerous, “Shall we kick this summer off in the proper fashion?”

“The proper fashion being _what_?” Myka asked cautiously.

“Tequila!”

Groans and shouts resounded around their group in equal measure. 

“See? This is why I am glad that I no longer drink,” Pete said. “The Petester had his fill of tequila my last summer as an intern…no mas, my love. No. Mas.”

Kelly stood on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “You are, of course, exempt.”

“Make that _two_ of us who are going no mas on the tequila,” Myka held her hands up in surrender.

“Oh no… _you_ are not backing out, Myka Bering. Consider it punishment for questioning my official, _professional opinion_ regarding your horses.”

“I will accept punishment in the form of _anything other than_ tequila. I learned that lesson last summer. That stuff brings nothing but trouble.”

Kelly scoffed, “Oh come on, trouble my ass. I do believe you have tequila and tequila alone to thank for helping you nab the hottest woman on the Island last summer.”

Myka threw her head back with a groan, but not before taking in the immensely curious look that had run across H.G.’s face at Kelly’s statement, “Jesus…I am so not drinking with you ever again. Or _telling you_ anything ever again for that matter.”

Kelly’s grin was blissfully innocent, “Abigail was hot. No denying that.”

“She has a point, boss, and you were the lucky recipient of that hotness,” Claudia quipped with a smile.

“Oh my God.” The blush that had left Myka’s cheeks hours ago returned full force. She covered her face with her hands dampening another, louder groan, “I hate you all, and I’m leaving. I am going to seek out another drink that _isn’t_ tequila and _doesn’t_ inspire talk of my non-existent sex life.”

“See? This is why you _need_ the tequila! For the non-existence…” Kelly teased.

Myka turned on her heel, “Leaving! Now!”

Kelly turned back to the group with a chuckle, “She is way too fun to tease. So…shots?”

**

Myka had made several circuits of the party, spending a few minutes here and there with various groups of people, but eventually, the teeming mass of people that somehow seemed to keep multiplying grew louder and more boisterous, just this side of rowdy. As someone turned the music up to ungodly levels, Myka knew she was absolutely ready for a much needed breath of fresh air. 

She wound her way through the living room, ignoring Pete’s shouts for her attention by catching his eye and motioning towards the door, mouthing, “I’ll be back.” Pete nodded, shrugged, and turned his attention back to what was happening in his immediate vicinity. 

She emerged out onto the blissfully quiet porch, sucking in a deep breath of air which was starting to tip towards coldness letting it seep into her lungs in waves of refreshing, biting chills. She moved to sit down on Wolly’s porch swing until she caught sight of the distinct outline of someone sitting on the porch rail, leaning against one of the beams. It took her only a few scant seconds to realize who it was, and only a few more seconds to inwardly judge herself for the agonizing cocktail of excitement and nerves that went racing through her bloodstream harder and headier than any amount of tequila Kelly could have attempted to get her to consume. The moon was bright and full, casting odd shadows around the porch, mixing and mingling with the small lanterns that Wolly had hanging all along the expanse of it, giving an ethereal glow to everything around, including H.G.

Myka felt like her footsteps were echoing off of every corner of the porch, but H.G. didn’t turn, didn’t seem to hear her, or if she did, didn’t choose to acknowledge the new presence intruding on her solitude. Yet, the quiet, the seeming peacefulness of the moment couldn’t quite deter Myka from speaking up, letting her words fill the hollow darkness of the night, “Wondering what time the first ferry leaves in the morning?”

H.G. visibly jumped, startled by the suddenness of the sound, of _that particular_ voice, of _her_ appearance amidst the dark and the quiet. She glanced over her shoulder, casting Myka a small, thin, though appreciative smile, “I would be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind.”

Suddenly, Myka felt like she was intruding, like she shouldn’t be there, stepping into this space, especially if that was what H.G. needed, _space_ , to get her footing, to gather her thoughts, to _breathe_ , to process just what she was embarking upon. She swiped a palm across her neck, eyes unable to meet H.G.’s for more than a few scant milliseconds, “I didn’t mean to intrude…I can…”

“No,” Helena shook her head, her smile brightening, deepening. “It’s fine, Myka. Please…” she gestured towards the opposite end of the porch rail she was occupying, “please sit.”

Myka settled herself across from Helena, balancing herself enough to draw her knees up to her chest on the rail, “So…are you wondering what on earth you’ve gotten yourself into?”

Helena let out a small puff of barely audible laughter, uncertain if she was amused or devastated by how accurate Myka’s question was. She rallied herself enough to find some semblance of a joking response, “I usually find that is the case anytime it is William who is convincing me to do something.”

Myka chuckled, “William, huh? I didn’t think there was anyone on earth he let get away with that.”

Helena grinned, “Yes, well, he calls me Helena so I figured it’s fair play.”

“I caught that earlier. I take it you prefer to stick with H.G.?”

Helena tilted her head in consideration, “It’s less a preference I suppose, and more a product of the fact that I’ve gone by my initials for most of my life. The people who know what they stand for are few and far between…the people who know and _use_ it are even less. Eventually, it came to feel quite… _personal_ to have my full name used.”

“I get that…strangely, I _really_ get that. I’m pretty sure Pete is one of like four people on Earth that knows my middle name, and he has been threatened with bodily harm if he reveals it.”

Helena laughed softly, arching an eyebrow at Myka playfully, “I won’t ask then…”

“Come on…we just met, I can’t give you that much ammunition against me already. It’s day one of the summer, you gotta work for those secrets…assuming you aren’t getting on a ferry tomorrow morning.”

Helena bypassed the ferry comment with a simple puff of air pushed through her nostrils, a mixture of amusement and doubt. Her eyes strayed back towards the house, “Your friends seem less inclined to keep your secrets…well…secret. You and tequila apparently mix quite well…”

Myka let her head fall back against the post supporting her back with a soft _thump_ , closing her eyes, “Ugh…yeah…that…that was not exactly the ideal first impression I’d like someone to have of me. Can we ignore the fact that you heard that?” Myka peeked through one eyelid to see H.G. staring at her with an unreadable look that made Myka fear what was coming next.

“We can simply not talk about it…though asking me to forget it would be an entirely different prospect.”

“I’ll take it, because once again, _that night_ is _so not_ a conversation for two people who just met.”

Myka swallowed down the rest of the words that were threatening to spill out of her like a never-ending flood. Words about how she was not the one-night stand type of person, no matter how her friends had made her sound. Words about how she instantly regretted sleeping with Abigail because she barely remembered any of it thanks to the aforementioned tequila. Words about how she refused to tell anyone, Pete included, how it made her feel like complete shit that she was just one of _many_ of Abigail’s conquests that summer. Words about how the last thing she wanted was for H.G. to think of her as some slimy drunk who climbed into bed with random women. Words about how despite the truth of it, she didn’t feel at all like she had just met H.G., and that if asked she would most likely pour out every single secret hidden within her memory, for no other reason than the simple fact that H.G. wanted to know and she just wanted them to keep talking.

H.G.’s gaze had once again filtered away from the house, out towards the lake, the stars, the seeming unending darkness of the Island. When she finally spoke again, her tone had shifted, sounding almost sad, mostly worried, “Is it always this quiet?”

Myka bit back a comment about the distinct _lack_ of quiet pouring from Wolly’s house, all raised voices and pounding bass, trying to remember what it felt like the first time she _processed_ how different the Island felt from anywhere else on earth. She allowed her gaze to follow H.G.’s, trying to ignore the party going on behind them and take in what was before them. She let out a contented sigh, “On this part of the Island, yeah, it usually is. Around here it’s pretty much all year-rounders, there are no hotels around, so no tourists, and no one really wanders up here save people who live here, so it does make it pretty quiet. Other parts aren’t quite like this. Main Street usually has a steady stream of noise, especially in the summer, tourists out late, the occasional horse going down the street, boat noise, that sort of thing. The areas where all the college kids live are _never_ quiet; they pretty much choose to party all summer rather than sleep.” Myka felt herself tipping towards rambling so she cut her words short, blushing softly, “Sorry…that was a really long answer to a really simple question. I have a tendency to go on and on when it comes to living here, which is…another thing that I have no idea why I just said it…I’m shutting up now.”

H.G. gave a soft, almost _endeared_ , chuckle, “It’s quite alright. I usually feel like I have so very little to say sometimes that it’s rather refreshing to have someone to carry the conversation.”

“You picked a perfect best friend then…”

H.G.’s chuckling turned to full on laughter, “Oh my… _yes_ , on that you are exceedingly correct, though I don’t think I’m very far off in saying that the same seems to go for you. Pete seems rather…boisterous. Is that a good word?”

Myka’s laughter mixed and mingled with H.G.’s, “Yeah…yeah that’s a perfect word. Trust me, between Wolly and Pete, I rarely get a word in edgewise, so I must say, I kind of appreciate having someone who actually seems to listen.”

“God…” H.G. sighed, passing a hand over her forehead, “I have no idea what I’m doing here.” A self-deprecating chuckle fled H.G.’s lungs somewhat involuntarily as she shook her head, “And I have no idea why I just said that…”

Myka’s eyes shone with understanding, both at H.G.’s uncertainty and both of their seeming propensities for saying unintended things the longer they talked, “You know…the longer I live here, the more I realize that everyone comes to the Island for a reason…maybe you just haven’t found yours yet.”

“And what was your reason, Myka? Or is that another too personal question to pass between two people who have just met?” There was an odd mix of challenge, amusement, and maybe just a hint of admiration in H.G.’s tone.

Myka considered H.G. for a moment, studying _her_ more than the question at hand, before coming to a decision and hopping down off of the porch rail, “It’s not too personal of a question…but it is one that is easier to _show_ you than explain. You feel up for a walk?” Confusion, and maybe a bit of nervousness, flitted across H.G.’s calm, composed façade, but Myka just kept walking towards the porch steps, shooting a glance over her shoulder, “You comin’?”

On surprisingly shaky feet, H.G. quickly followed Myka, jogging slightly to make up the ground already put between them thanks to Myka’s ridiculously long legs, one of the _very first_ things H.G. had noticed about Myka, but had tried in vain to put out of her mind. Now walking next to her, it was virtually impossible to not _focus_ on it, which was doing little to help her unsteady legs. 

Silence descended around them, something that Myka seemed perfectly comfortable with, something that H.G. was _usually_ comfortable with, but she somehow couldn’t stop herself from saying something, saying _anything_ that would keep Myka talking. Hesitantly, her eyes traced around the darkened streets and she asked, “This isn’t some sort of odd hazing ritual, in which I will be left in the woods to find my way back to the party is it?”

Myka’s laughter echoed around them, bouncing off the trees lining the street in thick groups, “If you were with Pete, yes, it probably would be. Kelly? Probably with enough tequila. However, you are with me, and trust me when I say I would absolutely not do that to anyone. I’ve actually seen that exact scenario go really wrong enough summers…”

“You’re kidding?” Despite the inherent honesty of her question, H.G. couldn’t quite believe that something like that had actually happened.

“Oh yeah. Drunk college kids who are bored and think it’s funny to screw with the new crop of interns who have never been up here before.”

“That’s awful.”

“Joys of having a large segment of the summer population be college kids who have a lot of time on their hands, are away from home, and have access to way too much alcohol and _other_ recreational items.”

H.G. couldn’t hold back a small chuckle, “Who knew this island had such a sordid past…”

“Trust me, between all of us, we could give you some stories. Thankfully, it’s never been any of the kids who work for me, which is probably because I make it known right off the bat that their asses will be on the first ferry home if they get in trouble.”

H.G. gave Myka as much of an impressed look as the darkness allowed, “I would never have pegged you for a hardass…”

Myka smirked, but it immediately schooled into seriousness, “I know…and I don’t necessarily _want_ to be, but the thing is…my kids…they have a ton of responsibility that goes beyond themselves in this job. They’re in charge of their team of horses all summer, and these horses are priceless when it comes to life here. Plus, these kids are the ones responsible for thousands of tourists a day. I can’t have a horse going out of control or a carriage having an accident because my kids partied too hard the night before. There’s too much at stake.”

There was so much passion, so much _honesty_ laced through Myka’s words that it caught H.G. up short. Rarely, if ever, was she used to people who seemed to be absolutely, wholly _themselves_ upon first meeting. She knew that fact to be intimately true since she was usually one of those people who operated behind facades and first impressions, unwilling to let any of her walls fall too quickly, yet Myka was nothing if not refreshingly, exceedingly, _open_. 

H.G. scrambled, fought to find _something, anything_ to say in response, but Myka beat her to it as they emerged onto a wider street, flooded with lights, one entire side of it dominated by a huge maze of stables. Myka shot her a sidelong glance and a bright smile, “Welcome to my reason for being here…well…sort of…we have to go inside to get down to the _whole_ reason.”

H.G. knew her eyes were wide, her jaw ajar as she took in the sheer _mass_ in front of her, the enormity of how much space the stables dominated, the overwhelming truth that Myka was apparently _in charge_ of all of this. When she spoke her voice was uncharacteristically breathless, “How many horses are in there?”

“Between all the buildings? About four hundred.”

“Bloody hell…and you’re in charge of all of them?”

Myka chuckled, H.G. seemed so _awed_ , almost shocked, “I am…with a very, heavy dose of Steve’s help.”

“That seems like a huge amount of responsibility for two people.”

“Says the woman who co-runs one of DC’s most upscale, in demand restaurants…” Myka grinned as she took in H.G. looking once again _shocked_. Inspired to a tinge of boldness, Myka nudged their shoulders together, “You forget that as much as Wolly told you about us, he also has told us quite a bit about _you_.”

“It seems rather odd, that. The fact that all of us seemingly already know so much about each other despite the fact that we’ve only just met. It feels…I don’t really know the proper word for it.”

Myka gave her a small smile, “Me neither, but I know what you mean…it feels like we’re all starting on about day twenty rather than day one.”

“Precisely.”

“Well,” Myka grinned, “I’d much rather you heard about me from _me_ , rather than Wolly’s impressions of me, so I’m good to start from scratch.”

H.G. considered Myka for a brief moment, the slight teasing in her eyes, the small way the corner of her lips quirked up in a half-smile, the loose carriage of her body, completely settled and comfortable. H.G. nodded her head, her own smile taking over her face, “I think I’d like that.”

“Good,” Myka nodded swiftly. “So…if that’s the case, first fact about me…why I’m here. Come on in.” Myka pulled her keys out of her back pocket, unlocking the stable doors and flicking on some of the lights, but not enough to overly disturb the horses. She didn’t give H.G. much time to admire the space, instead turning their steps immediately to the set of stables that ran closest to her office. Myka gave a small, barely noticeable sigh of relief to see that Tesla was standing comfortably, without a trace of discomfort. She had worried their ride earlier would have exposed something deeper that was wrong, but he stood there contentedly still, staring at her with awake, recognizing eyes. He let out a small nicker, which awoke Farnsworth next to him, who opened his own eyes, whinnying softly when he saw Myka. 

Myka stepped up to their enclosures, running soft hands over their noses, “Hello boys…” She turned back to see H.G. a few steps behind her, watching her with rapt fascination. Myka jutted her chin towards a shelf behind H.G., “Grab a few of those sugar cubes and come here.”

H.G. did as instructed, stepping cautiously, slowly up next to Myka. Myka eyed her carefully, “You good? I know they’re big, so if that freaks you out, totally ok, I just need to know.”

H.G. shook her head quickly, “No, not at all. I’m quite used to them actually; my parents had horses when I was younger. I was simply…admiring them. They’re beautiful. I also didn’t want to startle them, I figured they would need to get used to me.”

A deep, grateful smile overtook Myka’s face, “You’re good with horses…a vital fact that Wolly definitely _didn’t_ share with me.” 

H.G. stepped up next to Myka, holding her palm up slowly to the white horse on the right. He leaned down to sniff her palm before immediately seizing the cube and offering her a very sloppy dose of his lips against her hand. H.G. laughed brightly, “Well, you’re certainly friendly.”

“He’s a big baby _and_ always desperate for attention,” Myka chuckled warmly.

H.G. ran a hand along the side of his head, feeling the slightly rough hair beneath her fingers and suddenly feeling like she had been transported home, “What’s his name?”

“That’s Farnsworth.” Next to her, Tesla let out a loud sigh. Myka rolled her eyes, nestling her head against his with a laugh, “And this…the drama king over here, never to be ignored is Tesla.”

H.G. gave her a questioning look, taking in the way that Myka’s eyes continued to roam over Tesla, as if trying to notice any small shift or change in him. She cleared her throat slightly, “He’s the one you had to come check on this afternoon?” Myka’s look was almost startled, but H.G. gave her a small smile, “Steve mentioned that was why you weren’t around this afternoon. Is he alright?”

Myka’s demeanor shifted into something that almost seemed…grateful, “Yeah, yeah he’s alright. Don’t tell her I said this, but Kelly was right. He was limping a bit this morning, but it seems to have just been a tight muscle that he needed to work out. I took him for a ride earlier and he seemed ok.” Tesla nudged Myka’s shoulder, eliciting a laugh from both of them. Myka rubbed his nose, “And _clearly_ he seems fine now, so…once again, Kelly wins. She always does. You’d be good to remember that.”

H.G. smiled softly, “Duly noted. So…Farnsworth and Tesla? How endearingly scientific…”

Myka chuckled, “My grandpa had a thing for inventors. He was always futzing around in his barn, tinkering, playing. Drove my gram nuts. When he bought these two, he dubbed them appropriately, and their team name ever since has been ‘The Inventors.’”

Farnsworth nudged his nose against H.G.’s ear, a demand for further attention. H.G. laughed softly, giving Myka an endeared smile, “You weren’t kidding about the attention.” She moved closer to continue to rub against Farnsworth’s side before raising a simple, very open-ended question to Myka, “Your grandparents?”

Myka cleared her throat roughly, placing a kiss to Tesla’s nose, “Welcome to my reason for being here. It’s a really long story, too long for tonight really, but suffice it to say…my grandparents retired up here when I was a kid. They’d always summered here, but decided to move up full-time when they were done working. They loved it here. Because of them, _I_ grew to love it here. The Island…it became like a second home to me…honestly it felt more like home than anywhere else. I’d always thought, maybe someday I’d do what they did…but…well…the decision came a lot sooner than planned. They both died six years ago in the midst of a terrible winter…it was completely, _completely_ unexpected…but it happened…and well…” Myka sucked in a deep breath, “Sorry…God…I must sound ridiculous.”

H.G. reached a hand out to grip around Myka’s wrist, giving it an assuring squeeze, “No…you don’t. Myka…you don’t have to tell me this…after all…”

“We just met…yeah…” Myka gave her a watery grin, “I’ll get to why I’m telling you in a second. Anyway, little did I know, they had willed me their house, which was completely unexpected, and the original owner of this company made it clear that if I wanted a place here with the company I could have it. I’d interned every summer I was in college. I knew the ropes. It happened a lot sooner than I planned, but I decided if I was going to do it, live here full time, I might as well just jump in head first. There are a lot of other details in there…but…well, I have to save something for the rest of the summer.”

H.G. suddenly felt herself entirely overwhelmed with emotion in a completely unexpected fashion, even to the point of feeling a small swell of tears pricking at her eyes. She turned her attention back to Farnsworth, unable to fully meet Myka’s eye, “So these two…they were your grandfather’s?”

Myka smiled to herself, flooded with memories, “They were. Pap got them right after they were born, which was right before my first summer up here interning. I helped him raise them…so in a lot of ways they were kind of mine too, at least Pap always made me feel that way. When he died…I couldn’t imagine anyone else being here to take care of them.”

They stood there in a stilled silence, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts, before H.G. turned her gaze back to Myka, “Why tell me all of this?”

Myka gave her a brilliant smile, “Because I know what it feels like to have no idea what you’re doing or whether you’re making the right choice. However, I also know what it feels like to find exactly what you were looking for by coming here. I’ve seen it happen more times than I can count…so even…even if you don’t know yet why you’re here… I wholly believe that at some point this summer you’ll get an answer to that question. If you can hold off on the ferry hopping that is…” The corner of Myka’s mouth ticked up in a hesitant, teasing sort of smile, “Then again…we are two people who just met…so you are under no obligation whatsoever to heed my advice…”

H.G. felt as though something was tangibly shifting in the air around her, as though something substantial, vital, was changing within her system, her delicate, walled off, carefully constructed system, causing her to wonder if she would even recognize herself when she got home and looked at herself in the mirror. In a matter of minutes, Myka Bering had somehow, indescribably, suddenly laid waste to every safety net, every precaution that H.G. had put in place to keep herself from feeling exactly _like this_ , because _this_ …this roiling, blood-churning heat was dangerous and unpredictable and lead nowhere but off of cliffs with nothing but rocks beneath them. The only thing H.G. could hope for, could pray for, despite her distinct inclination to _never_ do such a thing, was that Myka was somehow unaware of the shift she had caused, unaware of the war waging itself within H.G.’s brain at this exact moment. She did her part to keep that battle hidden by slipping her coyest sort of smile onto her face, hoping that it would be enough to diffuse the air around them, which seemed to be crackling with _something_ dangerous. She gave Myka a quick wink, “I’ll bear that in mind…although…” and just like that, all of her attempts to remain indifferent, detached, anything other than completely _invested_ in the conversation that had just occurred once again crumbled, her smile retreating into something more genuine, “I am rarely of the mind to ignore advice when it is given with such heartfelt…honesty.”

Myka’s eyes danced with a subdued kind of mirth, “Honest advice or not, you should be careful, H.G. This Island might just sneak up on you…it has a way of surprising people.”

“I’m sure it does…”

**

They made a slow, comfortable return back up the hill to the party, conversation passing between them easily, though the topics remained decidedly neutral, an unspoken sort of agreement hanging around them that what had happened in the stables, that level of intimacy was, for now, a one-time occasion, born out of necessity, though Myka couldn’t explain exactly _why_ she felt the necessity to convince H.G. to stay. If Myka was being honest she probably _could_ explain it, she simply chose _not_ to, to not allow herself within ten feet of such an explanation. However, she couldn’t help but wonder if a small fraction of that explanation crept out as they made their way back up Wolly’s porch steps. 

She slid a sidelong glance H.G.’s way, “You know…if you ever feel like seeing the Island more…or at least from a perspective that isn’t Wolly’s boisterous and extreme exuberance, I’d be happy to show you around.”

H.G. gave her a grateful smile that dissolved into a sort of grimace, “I would love that…however, the way Wolly talks, he doesn’t make it sound as though I will have much time for anything other than _work_ this summer.”

Myka chuckled knowingly, “That is sadly probably kind of true. Once the tourists descend…free time is a bit scarce around here. However, I’m sure he won’t keep you locked in the kitchen _all_ summer.”

“One would hope not.”

“Well then…in the event you are ever released to breathe fresh air, my offer stands.”

H.G. nodded, feeling a rather unexpected blush creep into her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she had actually _blushed_ , yet here she stood, basking in the porch light of her best friend’s porch with a woman she just met and she was most decidedly _blushing_. She tried to fight it back, but knew it was a fruitless effort, so she chose to ignore it and simply gave Myka a small smile, “Thank you, Myka.”

**

Pete had carefully attuned his ears to catch the sound of the door opening or closing from the moment he had watched Myka leave the party. This time when it opened, his attention was rewarded, revealing Myka walking back into the house with H.G., laughter flowing amidst the wide smiles on both of their faces. He felt something tug in his stomach, a restless, worrisome kind of vibe that echoed one sentence around and around his mind. This…whatever this was…would lead nowhere good.


	3. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The season quickly approaches and life on the Island starts to spin with the speed of summer. Helena gets introduced to life at the Grand, and she and Myka get introduced to the well-intentioned, though intrusive, questions of their friends. Helena also, might have possibly discovered her purpose for being on the Island...and it might, just have to do with one Myka Bering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Island journey continues! 
> 
> I have to say that working on this this week, wandering through the wonders that is this fandom, those few things have been the greatest gift in the midst of the insanity that is our world. I hope that these few words might bring all of you a little bit of joy or at least a momentary respite from the reality that is life at the moment...I know I've needed that.
> 
> And as ever...a huge thanks to MuddyPuppy for the beta!!

“Trying to find a better adjective for it than _‘grand’?_ ” Wolly lifted a hand to shield his eyes against the early spring sun, letting his gaze wander to follow Helena’s where she was gaping, jaw ajar at the, admittedly beautiful, monstrosity of a building before them.

Helena’s eyes strayed from her focus of observation for a fraction of a second, shooting Wolly an amused eyeroll before allowing her eyes to turn back to the scene before her. She let out a small self-deprecating chuckle, “I actually think grand might be the best option available at the moment. It’s quite…breathtaking.”

The Grand Hotel sat like a queen on her throne atop the ascending bluffs of the Island. It was the first thing to catch any visitors eye from the moment their ferry came within viewing distance of the Island. An elegant stretch of white-washed walls, dominated by a front porch that seemed to run for miles. Even in the pale sunlight of the morning, the buttery yellow of the window canopies, the emerald green of the immaculately manicured grounds, shone like jewels within a crown that was absolutely aware of its own beauty and splendor. The quiet patter of water descending filled Helena’s ears as she turned to take in the cascading fountain which rested within the center of the front lawn, the sunlight glinting against the water. Everywhere she turned there was something else to draw her attention, to steal her breath. Flowers of every shade and fragrance, which truly had no right to be blossoming this early in the season. Topiaries pristinely cut and pruned into the shapes of Mackinac’s signature horse and carriages. The gentle flutter of the flags which ran the entire length of the porch as they flapped and fluttered in the breeze coming off the lakes and up the bluffs. 

Helena’s breath left her once again in a rush, “It feels like stepping backwards in time…”

Wolly’s laughter resounded through the quiet, shattering the illusion momentarily, “Did you just make an _H.G. Wells_ joke?”

Helena smirked, “Possibly, though if you were to tell anyone I would deny it.” Her eyes returned to tracing every square inch of the marvel before her eyes, trying to memorize it in an instant, “Your pictures, your descriptions did this absolutely no justice.”

“It is something, isn’t it?” Wolly cocked his head in consideration, trying to imagine seeing this all again for the first time, trying to recall how he felt the first time he walked up this very hill to take in the place he would soon call home, or at least home in the sense that he would remain ensconced within its walls for almost eighty hours a week once the season began. “The first time I came up here, I tried to get up on the porch in my shorts and shirt sleeves like a fool…I was so overwhelmed by being here, I missed the signs,” he pointed a stray finger towards the large green sign which dominated the sidewalk.

Helena’s brow furrowed in surprise, “A dress code? Truly?”

Wolly chuckled, “After six, you bet, darlin’.”

“What exactly did they do to you? Ill coiffed as you apparently were?” 

“I was escorted, _very politely_ I might add, back down the hill to about this spot and told I could return once I had found a tie and a jacket.”

“Did you?”

Wolly’s smile widened, “You bloody bet I did. Paid my ten dollars and walked that porch like a _prince_.”

Helena’s eyes widened once again, “ _Ten dollars?_ To walk on a porch? You cannot be serious.”

“As a heart attack, Helena, and it is protocol not to be questioned. This is hallowed ground on this Island. That porch has been walked by presidents, dignitaries, movie stars, you name it. This hotel made this place what it is, and if it’s gone to their heads a bit, it cannot be helped. It has a reputation that is well deserved, and honestly, if I didn’t work here and thus am able to walk that porch whenever I desire, I would pay that money without question. You will find no better view on the Island. You will find no other place that makes you feel how it feels to be up there.”

Helena’s smile softened as she watched the way Wolly’s eyes glistened and sparkled as he gazed at the building with a kind of longing, as she heard the way his voice moved with emotion. She nudged his shoulder with her own, “You are quite sentimental, did you know that?”

“I did, at least when it comes to this. I found my home here, Helena. It was the first time I truly felt like I knew who I was, what I was meant to do. No other place, except possibly Bromley, has made me feel like that. Can it be pretentious? Yes. Are its rules a bit arcane? Yes. Is there anywhere else I’d rather be? Absolutely not.”

Helena’s gaze once again swept across the landscape. She could only hope that by the end of the summer she would feel even a fraction of what Wolly felt for this place, that maybe, possibly, it would be within these walls that she would find the reason for being here that Myka had hinted at the other night. Maybe she was standing right in front of her reason, she just wasn’t capable of realizing it yet. 

Wolly cupped her elbow gently, restarting their steps up the hill, “Let’s go show you the stomping grounds shall we? Only seems fair since you’ll be here more than your apartment for the next five months.”

Helena felt her face fall, “Are we not going up there?” She gestured towards the porch.

Wolly chuckled, “Not yet. Tonight. Tonight, we’ll come back, all gussied up and fancy for dinner, and we’ll give you a proper promenade.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “Oh Willliam, ever the gentleman.”

Wolly gave her a mock bow, extending an arm before him, “Of course. After you milady. To the kitchens.”

**

“ _Bloody hell_ , this is _three times_ the size of our entire kitchen in DC! You’re actually serious that this is all just for me? Just for the pastry staff?”

Wolly beamed as he gazed around the room like a proud parent. He slid his hand along the newly installed counters, still awed that everything had come out exactly as he had planned, exactly as he had hoped. He had overseen a complete renovation of the kitchens through the winter and the result had been beyond his wildest dreams, leaving him itching with excitement for the season to begin, so that he could finally start cooking in a kitchen he designed to his own specifications, and so that he could finally start sharing that experience again with Helena. 

They hadn’t shared a kitchen since their first year after culinary school. They’d both moved to Washington DC with glamorous and obscenely overachieving goals, only to have them dashed to the ground quickly, both of them accepting low level positions at a middling restaurant on Capitol Hill, where they languished away until neither of them could take it anymore. He had gotten the job at the Grand on pure luck, one of their culinary school professors giving him a heads up about an opening before it was broadcast too widely, and giving him a glowing recommendation in the process. He had taken the offer instantly, his only hesitation being the thought of leaving Helena alone in a city where they knew few but each other. Yet, she had encouraged him, supported him, promised that she had her own plans to escape their dwindling prospects. 

She had decided to take an extremely risky gamble on buying a restaurant with one of their classmates who had also made the trek to the States after school. They had bought a place on the other side of the city, with little to commend itself other than its price, and even that was excessive given the DC locale. Helena had risked her entire inheritance from her grandmother, put her blood, sweat, and tears into a terrible location, and somehow struck gold, building it into one of the hardest to attain reservations in the city, all within a handful of years. 

Yet, despite the success, despite the reviews and the write-ups and the accolades, Wolly could tell that there had been something building within Helena over the last year. He wasn’t even sure if she could hear it in her own voice, but he could tell every time that they talked that there was something hiding beneath the surface, something dangerously close to sliding off of the rails. For months, their conversations had been filled with an uncertain kind of discontent, some of which Wolly knew the cause of, the rest he couldn’t put his finger on. All he knew was that there had to have been something distinctly _unsettled_ in Helena’s life if he had finally convinced her to leave her own kitchen and join his for the summer season. 

Fortunately for Wolly, this summer had provided the perfect excuse for him to use in order to seal the deal of his constant pestering. His head pastry chef had informed him at the end of the last season that she was pregnant and wouldn’t be coming up to the Island for the next summer due to her maternity leave. As much as Wolly hated to lose Caroline, even for one summer, he couldn’t help but thrill a little at the possibility it presented him. He had no pastry chef, but he did have a best friend, who happened to be the best pastry chef he knew, and thus he finally had all the leverage he needed to finally get Helena out of DC and onto a ferry, choosing to ignore for the time the tugging in his conscience that he was also taking advantage of circumstances in Helena’s life in order to convince her to come. 

Helena’s eyes roamed around the gleaming stainless steel, the immaculate, top of the line appliances, the shelves stacked with nothing but the best ingredients all at her fingertips, “You’re sure your staff won’t mind my being here? I rather feel like I’m invading their space…”

Wolly waved a thoughtless hand, “They knew Caroline wouldn’t be here this summer, and none of them seemed particularly interested in taking her spot, didn’t want the responsibility.”

Helena leveled him with a mock serious stare, “And you think _I_ wanted this much responsibility?”

“Hey, I told you the parameters of the job. You were the one that took me up on the offer.”

“The entirety of all the dessert menus are truly all my own?”

Wolly gave Helena a devilish smile, “It’s all yours. Complete and total freedom to do whatever you desire. Experiment, try new recipes, bring out old ones. This kitchen is yours, Helena, do with it what you will. As long as my customers are happy, I will be happy.”

An excitement which Helena had not felt in _years_ raced through her veins. Despite the fact that she did, on the surface, have the same amount of free will in her half of the kitchen in DC, she and her partner had begun to be constrained by public expectation and demand. Things had become rote and routine, and so the prospect of something completely new, the possibility of being able to test and try different things made something spark inside of her that she hadn’t even realized had started to fade into a faint glow. She gave Wolly a playful smirk, “I never leave a customer unsatisfied, therefore I believe your kitchen is safe.”

Wolly gave her a quick wink, “That’s my girl.” He pulled a binder off of one of the shelves, “We’ll have to go over the schedule and the layout of things, which is why I needed you here early. The menus are entirely yours, but we’ll still have to talk about which menus go with which meals and that sort of thing. How we want to run the buffets and all of that.”

“I’m sure we will find a rhythm, it might just take a bit of adjustment.”

“That…is a wild understatement, trust me. This place gets nuts during the summer. I may have downplayed how much you _will_ be working…I hope that’s ok.”

Helena laughed loudly, “I had no doubt in my mind that you were giving me a rather rose-colored impression of things, but trust me, I came up here to work, so if I see nothing but the inside of this kitchen, I’m sure I will be quite happy.”

“I hope so.” Wolly’s smile turned sheepish, before dissipating, leaving something nervous and a bit sad behind, “I really do want you to be happy here, Hel. I…I feel a bit as though I took advantage of things in DC to get you up here…I know things…this year…”

Helena wrapped a hand around his wrist, stalling his words, “William…my dearest William, I am up here entirely of my own volition. You did not take advantage. I believe if anything this was possibly a lucky twist of fate that you needed me here at the same time that I was in wild need of getting out of the city.”

“I just…I have nothing to say other than the fact that I want you happy, and not just here…I want you to be _happy_.”

Helena’s smile was a ghost of a thing, an involuntary pull of muscles, “Trust me, I do too, and I rather think that being here will allow me to gain a proper perspective on things. Being away from the city for awhile…I think it will give me a chance to figure out what I want, or at least I hope it does, if not, I have no bloody clue what I’ll do.”

“Questions for October, Hel. Nothing has to be decided now.”

“I know,” Helena cleared her throat which was suddenly thick. She shook her head quickly, “Can we maybe not talk about this just yet? Shall we focus on the task at hand?”

Wolly squeezed Helena’s shoulder, “Of course.”

Helena immediately buried her head in the binder that Wolly had set before her, completely oblivious to the anxious look of worry that passed over Wolly’s face.

**

“So, you and Myka seemed to hit it off pretty well the other night.” It was spoken with Wolly’s typical seemingly oblivious casualness, as if he didn’t know _exactly_ what he was saying, as if he wasn’t aware that he was saying the absolutely obvious, completely _overt_ thing.

Helena fought back an urge to roll her eyes, keeping her own gaze as steadily forward focused as Wolly’s while they continued to walk the full length of the Grand Hotel porch later that evening. The only sign that she was paying attention came in the way she tucked her hand a bit more firmly inside the crook of Wolly’s arm, enough to give his muscles an uncomfortable, though momentary squeeze. She cleared her throat quietly, “I thought _proper promenades_ would be free of intrusive questions.”

Wolly let out a jovial scoff, “It wasn’t a question, but rather an adamant statement of fact. One that anyone with _eyes_ could have made after that party.”

This time Helena _did_ roll her eyes, halting their steps and moving to lean against the railing of the porch, arms folded around her waist, as if she needed to protect herself from whatever conversation was coming. When she spoke, she directed her words to the Mackinac Bridge just visible in the distance amidst the twilight, so that she _didn’t_ have to acknowledge that she was saying them to Wolly, “Why didn’t you tell me about her?” She inwardly chastised herself for the annoyed lilt which had crept into her tone involuntarily.

She felt Wolly’s gaze on her, but refused to meet it. He let out a soft sigh, settling next to her, opting to follow her gaze rather than demand her undivided attention. He knew that despite her feigned indifference she was listening to every word, “I did tell you about her. I believe I mentioned her frequently in my letters, on the phone, when I would visit…”

“You know what I mean, William,” Helena cut across him, though her tone had softened, an edge of saddened worry was now present.

“Oh!” Wolly pretended shock, “You mean why didn’t I tell you that she’s exactly your type?”

Helena pried her gaze from the bridge to level Wolly with a dangerous glare, “Do you _ever_ give any forethought to the way you word things or do you just blurt out _exactly_ what you’re thinking?”

Wolly smirked playfully, “When has subtlety _ever_ been my strong suit? And since when have you ever complained about its absence?”

“Since this precise moment I do believe.”

In that moment, Wolly _did_ , in fact, give himself a singular moment of pause, one moment to gather precisely how to say _this overt thing_ to Helena without bringing harm, or at least without unsettling her further than she already seemed. Her life was already surrounded by so many question marks he didn’t particularly relish adding more. He drew out a long breath, resuming his resolute pondering of the bridge, “I didn’t tell you, despite being acutely aware of just what you would think of Myka when you eventually met her, because I _know_ her, and I know _you_ , and what Myka wants with her life is diametrically opposed to what you want in life, Helena. It didn’t seem worth mentioning because it seemed a frivolous, _pointless_ thing to mention considering that fact.”

“And what exactly is it that Myka wants that I apparently so adamantly _don’t_ want?” Silently, Helena judged herself for the surge of trepidation that skidded over her skin as she waited for Wolly to answer. Somehow, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know just why this thing with Myka, whatever this _thing_ was, was never meant to be a good idea. She didn’t want to find out why it already needed to stop when it had hardly had the chance to _start_ in the first place.

Suddenly, Wolly wished that he _didn’t_ always say the blatant thing, but he knew if he hedged, if he sugar-coated, Helena would know and it would come out eventually anyway and the delay of it would only cause more pain. He passed a hand over his hair, ruffling it slightly, “Myka wants the kind of love that her grandparents had, Hel. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen two people love each other the way that Jules and Al Bering did, and I only knew them the last few years of their lives. Watching them…it was like seeing them when they were sixteen years old, not eighty. She won’t say it out loud, and she probably has good reason not to, but that’s what Myka wants.”

“I could want that. I, very much, could want that if it was with the right person.” A pulse of annoyance, of bitter offense laced through Helena’s voice, but she knew it was half-hearted, knew that Wolly would know it was too, because well…as he said, he knew her.

Wolly’s hand, warm, assured, and comforting gripped around Helena’s bicep, giving it a light squeeze, drawing her attention away from the bridge so that she could look in his eyes, which were glittering with understanding, with love, “I know, Hel. I absolutely know that. However…Myka’s life is very much _here_. This Island, it’s in her blood, it’s who she is. She wants that love… _here_. You…my spectacular, wild child of a best friend, have wandering in your blood. You may want that kind of love, but it took me _years_ to convince you just to come spend a few months, and so whether or not I think you two might just be damn near perfect for each other, which I admit sounds insane since…”

“We just met,” Helena slipped in with a small chuckle, her mind filtering back to her and Myka’s conversation the other night; how that one little phrase seemed to mean so little in the face of what Helena was starting to already feel.

Wolly gave her a gentle smile, “Exactly. It seemed a moot point to me, Hel, because the last thing I want is to see either of you two get hurt. I’ve seen you both hurt enough. Jesus, I’ve seen what the last few months have been like for you, Hel, and I just…I don’t want to see you heartbroken again when it could have been completely avoided.”

That one word broke whatever sense of calm, of peace that had settled over them. Helena stood with a scoff, resuming their slow trek down the porch, “Heartbroken is _hardly_ the word I would use to describe things, William.”

Still lagging a few steps behind Helena, Wolly rolled his eyes spectacularly. He quickened his steps, slipping an arm around her shoulders with a playful squeeze, “Well, enlighten me then. How exactly would you describe it?”

“Relieved? Shamefully thankful?”

Wolly let out a small laugh, “That seems a bit harsh…”

“It is the truth, harsh or not.”

“Was it really that bad?” Wolly’s tone had softened, his eyes tracing every minute detail of Helena’s features trying to read there what he knew she wouldn’t say out loud.

Helena sighed with resignation, “By the end, yes, it was exactly that bad. We weren’t happy, hadn’t been for quite some time…apparently.” The last word was a whisper, a barely acknowledged admission of what Helena had been oblivious to, or so she had been told.

“I’m sorry…Jesus…Hel…I didn’t realize.”

“Neither did I, until it was too late, and by then…well…again I say… _relieved_.”

They walked to the end of the porch in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, some misguided, some trapped where they shouldn’t be, until they reached the end and once again rested on the railing, gazing out at the water. Wolly cleared his throat roughly, “So you’re relieved…but tell me this…do you miss her?”

There was a pause, a momentary beat where Wolly wasn’t quite sure if Helena would actually answer, until her voice came quietly, spoken on the breeze, “Of course I do…though not as much as I probably should.”

Wolly tugged on Helena’s elbow, drawing her into a tight hug, wishing that in that simple act he could chase away the demons that he knew chased behind Helena like she was the last being on earth. He pressed a kiss to her temple, “I love you so damn much…and because of that, all I will say is this…whatever happens this summer…just be careful.” He swallowed down the rest of the sentence, the words he wanted to let fill in behind the ones he had just spoken. He wanted to tell her to be careful with her heart, to be careful with Myka’s, but he knew it didn’t need to be said, that it would do no good to be spoken, so for once in his life, he remained silent.

Wolly felt Helena nod against his shoulder, felt a whisper of lips against his cheek, “I promise you I will.”

They stayed like that for a moment longer before Wolly released his grip around Helena’s shoulders, giving her a goofy grin to ease the tension, the palpable weight hanging around them, “Come on you, I owe you a dinner courtesy of the best damn kitchen on this Island.”

“For tonight at least since you are out here and not in there cooking it yourself,” Helena teased with an arched eyebrow.

Wolly’s booming laughter returned as he clutched a hand over his heart, “You wound me, woman.”

“Oh I’m sure…I’m also sure you’ve missed me desperately.”

“At this moment, that’s debatable.”

Helena grinned, feeling a bit more like herself with each passing second. She breathed in the cool crispness of the air coming off the lake, wondering if she might just grow to like it here. She sighed softly, “Come on, maddening man. Dinner awaits.”

**

The rest of the night passed in all of the ways Helena had come to expect when it was just her and Wolly and far too many glasses of wine. They laughed, they reminisced. They caught up on all the news that they had failed to share even amidst their near constant contact. It was nice, comforting…it almost felt like home. _Almost_. Yet, despite the ease, the happiness of the hours as they passed, Helena could not stop herself from thinking about riotous curls dangling in front of dancing green eyes, of a crooked smile and soft laughter. No matter how hard she tried she could not stop herself from feeling a tightness in her chest as she repeated Wolly’s words over and over to herself, be careful…be careful…be careful…

**

“So…” Steve flopped into one of the chairs in front of Myka’s desk, propping his feet on the edge of her desk, hands clasped behind his head, “I don’t know whether I should thank you for saving me some money on this bet with Pete, or be pissed at you for preventing me from stealing Pete’s money.”

Myka gave him a cursory glance, before returning her focus to her computer, continuing to maneuver the schedule for the first two weeks of the season, which was quickly, _far too quickly_ , approaching, “I have no idea what on earth you’re talking about.”

Steve gave her a playful scoff, slipping his feet onto the floor and leaning forward to rest his elbows against the desk with an incredulous look, “Play innocent all you want, but anyone with eyes could see that Wolly is very much _not_ who H.G. is interested in. Thus, thank you for saving me money and I hate you for depriving me of the joy of stealing from Pete.”

Myka rolled her eyes and pushed her glasses onto the top of her head. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh, which she had hoped would sound more frustrated than it did. In reality, it came out much more _wanting_ , more…woefully _hopeful_ , and she hated herself just a bit for it. She pinched at the bridge of her nose, “Please do not read into that situation something that is _so definitely not_ there.”

Steve didn’t even try to fend off his laughter, “You’re kidding me, right?” Myka gave him her best impression of a serious look, though it was fleeting. Steve sighed, “You’re insane. You’re insane! I’m pretty sure you were the only person keeping H.G.’s feet planted on the floor at that party rather than running about a hundred miles in the other direction, away from all of us and our crazy.”

Myka shrugged, “She’s been here like four days. Hell, she’d _been here_ like eight hours that night. She’s adjusting…” Myka waved her hand as if trying to grasp the appropriate word out of the air to diffuse whatever train of thought Steve was barreling them down, “She’s adapting. I figured it would help if _some of us_ were nice to her.”

“Hey! We were all _more than nice_. We were damn near perfectly pleasant and polite company.”

“You call placing bets on her love life and Kelly bringing up the _tequila_ , perfectly pleasant and polite?” Myka incredulously smirked.

“Ok, one,” Steve held up a finger to emphasize his point, “she wasn’t present for the bet placing, and two,” another finger up, “she seemed _exceedingly interested_ in just how you, darling Myka Bering, respond to tequila, so that was more about _you_ finding us impolite than her.”

Myka felt a blush flash into her cheeks and flare down to her chest. She hadn’t been sure if she had just imagined the look on H.G.’s face when Kelly had mentioned Abigail or if it was just some kind of misguided wishful thinking. The fact that Steve had noticed too, coupled with H.G.’s words on the porch about being unable to forget Kelly’s commentary made a strange kind of unsettled warmth churn thickly through Myka’s pulse. She sank her head back against her chair, giving Steve a look she hoped told him she was pleading for empathy, because she really couldn’t figure out what else to say. 

Steve gave her a curious look, though it _was_ laced with a bit more concern and care than he initially had, “Jesus, what happened when you guys were out on the porch? I was seriously just giving you a hard time…but, Myka…”

Myka waved her hands quickly, “Nothing, no, nothing happened. _Nothing_.”

“Liar.”

Myka groaned, “We _talked_ , that’s all. She seemed really hesitant about being up here and so I talked to her about it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“One hell of a talk for how long you guys were out there.”

Myka’s eyes skirted away from Steve, her voice lowering in hopes that she could just say it and he would ignore her, “I might have also brought her down here.”

Steve’s eyes widened with surprise, “You did? Why?”

Myka shrugged, unable to muster any sort of defensive response, “I told her everyone has their reasons for coming here. She asked what mine was. I brought her down here, introduced her to the boys, told her why I was here…”

“Sounds like one hell of a first date…” Steve’s voice was light, teasing.

“Shut up,” Myka mumbled, though her lips pulled involuntarily into a grin.

“Hey,” Steve held his hands up in apparent surrender, “she seemed nice, a bit quiet, but nice. She’s ridiculously attractive, and clearly thinks you are too. Whatever makes you happy, Myka. I’m not here to judge.”

“Trust me, there is nothing to judge, because _no_. Attractive, nice, _whatever_ , that’s not happening.” Myka turned back to her computer, pretending that was a definitive end to the conversation.

“Can I ask why not?”

“Because it’s an _horrendous_ idea. I learned my summer fling lesson a long time ago, and I have exactly _zero_ interest in doing it again.”

Steve stood up, moving around the edge of the desk to perch directly next to Myka’s computer, practically forcing her to look at him, “Who says it has to be a summer fling? Sometimes flings become very much _not_ flings. Look at Kelly and Pete…”

“What says it is the fact that she was already thinking about bailing out of here after being here for a couple of hours. You’ve heard the things Wolly has said about her, Steve. Her life is in DC, my life is here, and Jesus, _we are not talking about this_ , because I just met her and this is all _irrelevant_.”

“It’s not irrelevant because clearly that ridiculous brain of yours has already thought through a lot of contingencies.”

Myka groaned, letting her head hit her computer keys with a dull thud, “ _Fine_. I will admit, the idea is appealing. I loved talking to her and _yes_ , I would have to be dead to not admit she’s gorgeous, but still…been there, done that, no thank you.”

Steve ruffled his hand through Myka’s curls, dropping a kiss to her head, “Well…if you are that determined, I will simply say this…if you really don’t want this to happen, I’d be careful, because the way she was looking at you…I don’t envy you having to attempt to turn that down.”

Myka let out another groan, “Never in my life have I said it’s going to be a long summer this early in the season as much as I have over the last like _four days_.”

**

When Steve emerged from Myka’s office, a hand immediately shot out and tugged him by the elbow far enough away to go unnoticed by Myka. Claudia gave him an anxious, giddy look, “So? Come on! Details! Are we placing _new_ bets?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I don’t think so.”

Claudia clenched her hands into fists, shaking them skyward, “Ugh! _Why?_ They were like next level adorable the other night.”

“Myka just seems…uninterested.”

“Oh that’s totally a lie. _Liar_.”

“Lying or not, I’m not putting any money anywhere near that situation. You know Myka, Claud, when she’s determined, she’s determined.”

“Your call, Jinxsy. Todd, Fargo, and I will just keep our bets to ourselves then.”

“You do that.” Steve slung an arm around her shoulders, grinding his knuckles playfully against the top of her head, eliciting a frustrated shout, “Come on, you. We have work to do.”

**

Myka put up a valiant effort at heeding Steve’s words about caution, about carefulness over the next couple of days. Of course, they weren’t exactly _difficult_ words to heed considering the fact that as the season began to get a head of steam behind it, as the first _extremely early_ wave of tourists hit, as May threatened just around the corner, no one really had any time to see anyone or do anything, too engrossed in a bombardment of schedules and unseemly hours. 

The first few weeks of the season were always some of Myka’s busiest, making sure that she went on at least one trial tour with every single intern, regardless of whether it was their first or their fourth summer, simply to ensure that they had their facts down, that they were comfortable with their assigned team, that they had the right amount of playful banter to manage a summer of tourists looking for a tour _and_ entertainment. Between her and Steve, they each made sure to spend as many hours in the stables as possible, guaranteeing beyond a shadow of a doubt that every horse was settled back into Island living, that there were no illnesses, no injuries, absolutely _nothing_ to worry about as the time when more tourists would be flooding the Island crept ever nearer. 

Myka knew it always took all of them a little bit of time to settle into some sort of pattern, and eventually they would find that happy medium of nights together to balance out the sheer amount of _work_ they were all doing. She took a modicum of comfort, as she always did, in the fact that she wasn’t the only one forcing herself out of bed before sunrise, only to stumble back across the threshold well after sundown. Almost every night, she inevitably ran into Wolly, his bike joining hers in the exhausted, slow sojourn back to Harrisonville. They would check in with each other, make sure things were running smoothly, but beyond that they were both usually too exhausted for anything more. Myka knew she could, probably _should_ , ask how H.G. was settling in, but she didn’t want to appear overly curious and so she silently hoped that Wolly would say something, some casual mention of if her uncertainty, her unsettled feeling was starting to ebb. Yet, every night was the same…no word, no comment. Wolly was distinctly, _unnaturally_ , silent on the subject of H.G. 

Wolly’s silence, after it had endured for almost a week’s worth of rides home together, began to feel intentional. Before H.G. had arrived on the Island, she was almost always part and parcel of conversation with Wolly. He would mention her in passing, comment on needing to get home and call her, but now that she was actually _here_ , he seemed to have been rendered entirely mute on all things H.G., at least around Myka, and she began to wonder what exactly H.G. might have told him about the night of the party to cause him to clam up so completely. Suddenly, questions were swirling unbidden through Myka’s mind, making her veritably vibrate with nervousness, despite judging herself mightily for caring so much about something that _really shouldn’t_ , couldn’t, _matter_. She worried that maybe she had pushed up against the boundaries of first introductions too much, maybe she had been too open, too casual, come on too strong and revealed too much. Maybe she had read more into H.G.’s seeming attention than was actually there. Maybe H.G. had informed Wolly beyond a shadow of a doubt that she found all of his friends nosy and annoying and simply _too much_ , and she would be spending the rest of the summer avoiding all of them. 

Myka willed herself to not care, to put her head down and _work_ , live the life she always lived every summer, but there was something about H.G.’s mere _presence_ on the Island that left her feeling off-kilter, as if H.G.’s unsettledness was contagious and now Myka couldn’t escape it. She told herself she was being considerate, wondering, _caring_ about how she was settling in, but deep down she knew it went well beyond common courtesy, and because of that she had absolutely, unequivocally been deserving of Steve’s lecture, which she feared she was dangerously close to forgetting she ever heard.

She fought against the desire to ask for more days than she could count, until the inevitable happened, until the inevitable _schedule_ sank in and life began moving in the rhythm and flow they all knew and loved. The night hours lessened, normal summer life began, and Myka knew, with that turn, there would eventually come a time and a place where all of her careful avoidance, her desire for caution would be challenged, and she feared she was nowhere near up for such a full-frontal attack.

**

It was a well known fact that the unofficial start to the season was always May first. Whether it fell on a Monday or a Saturday, the first day of May always brought the first glimpse of _busyness_ to the Island. Everyone was always on high alert to make a good impression to the first guests, especially since one of the first guests was always, without fail, the Governor. No matter who was in office, the Governor always made a point of taking up residence at the house designated for the head of the state, a behemoth of a house set on one of the highest points of the Island so it was always visible, those first few days of May as a kind of signal that the jewel of Michigan’s tourism was officially open for business. 

So it was that April thirtieth was one of the quietest nights the Island ever experienced. No one pulled late nights that night in the vain hope of starting the season off on the right foot of a good night’s sleep. Everyone had their own ritual, whatever it took to ease their nerves, calm their minds in preparation for what was to come. 

Myka always gave herself a night at home, one night to herself, curled up with Trailer to pause and contemplate what the next four and a half months would bring. Myka should have known, should have felt it in the air, that _of course_ , it would be this night of all nights that Wolly ran up against her carefully laid plans and boundaries.

**

The night was blissfully warm, a sign Myka hoped of a beautiful summer to come. She moved around her backyard lighting the smattering of tiki torches she had around her back porch, hoping that the night would remain nice enough to allow her a few hours out on the deck with a book and a good glass of wine. 

As she lit the last torch, Trailer bounded up to her, tennis ball in his mouth, a wide doggy smile on his face, tail wagging in anticipation of attention. Myka chuckled softly, scratching behind his ears, “You ready, big guy?”

She flipped the ball to the other end of the yard, laughing as Trailer tore after it at full speed, sending a cascade of grass and pine needles flying in his wake. His energy only lasted for ten minutes, but it was enough time to distract Myka from the movement on the other side of her fence, the lights that were flooding across the grass, until Wolly’s voice was calling out to her from where his head was peeking over the fence, “Happy last night of peace, Myka!”

She laughed warmly, tossing the ball once again, only to have Trailer look at her incredulously and slink back to the porch, completely exhausted. She called out to Wolly, “Same to you, although I’m so tired it doesn’t quite feel like a peaceful night.”

“That’s what alcohol is for!” Wolly shouted, lifting his own beer up into the air.

Myka grinned, “Ah, but you see my _favorite bar_ isn’t open in the summer, so I’m kind of screwed.”

“Whatever fool would close a bar in the summer?” Wolly questioned sarcastically.

It was Wolly’s winter job, a passion project of his that he had started almost immediately upon moving to the Island full-time. So many things closed up once the season ended that it left little for the year-round residents to do. He had decided quickly that what they all needed was a place outside of their homes to hang out, a place that would help them fight the winter cabin fever, and so he had opened up _Wolly’s_. It opened the week after the last seasonal worker left the Island and closed the night before the first ferry arrived. It served the dual purpose of keeping Wolly busy during the winter and giving all of them something to do with their time other than sitting around and staring at all of the snow. It was a lot of work for one person, but he was seemingly happy to do it.

Myka chuckled as she moved towards the back of the yard, “I have no idea what fool that would be.” The sentence had barely left her mouth when she was brought up short by the realization that Wolly wasn’t _alone_ in his backyard.

H.G. was occupied setting a table up on Wolly’s lawn, laying out places for dinner, seemingly oblivious to Myka’s presence, despite the fact that now that Myka had noticed H.G. she found she couldn’t focus on _anything_ else. She again wondered in passing if she had scared H.G. off and was finally going to get confirmation of that fact by being completely ignored. She also felt a new pang of fear, as she took in the scene around her, the candles, the table, the seeming intimacy of the situation, that maybe Pete and Steve had been right all along. Maybe this summer _was_ about Wolly and H.G. and she had completely and totally misread _everything_ that had happened at the party. She shook off the feeling and propped her forearms against the top of the fence, directly across from Wolly, “So…is the Grand ready for the chaos?”

Wolly rolled his eyes, “We are _always_ ready. Have you learned _nothing_ about me after all these years?”

“Right, right, how could I forget? Who cares that you will soon have hundreds upon hundreds of mouths to feed? No big deal.”

Wolly coughed roughly, “At this exact moment, I don’t care about the hundreds. I care about the ten I have to feed Saturday night.”

Myka’s brow furrowed before immediately rising in recognition, “Governor’s dinner, huh?”

“You know it.”

“And how are you going to impress our lovely Governor this year?”

Wolly shrugged, “I want to slam a couple of pizza boxes on the table and tell him to _enjoy_ the best the Grand has to offer someone with such astonishingly bad politics as his, however…”

“However you like your job…regardless of how much all of us would probably agree with you on the pizza front.”

Wolly raised his eyebrows knowingly, before sighing, “Whatever. I have to be polite for a weekend, I can handle that.”

“You are stronger than me, Wolly. I’d probably dump something in his lap and tell him to bite me…”

H.G.’s laughter rang across the backyard, seemingly unbidden. Myka cocked her head to see around Wolly, jutting her chin towards H.G. with a smirk, trying her best to seem calm, completely casual, “You alright back there, or is this an Island induced frenzy?”

H.G. wiped her hands against her thighs before giving the table a satisfied nod and moving back towards the fence. When her eyes met Myka’s, she saw that Myka’s were dancing with playful mirth, and it sent a rush of warmth, hot and intense, through her bloodstream. She shot Myka a quick wink, “I was simply finding it quite entertaining that you seem to be so very polite and _nice_ , but you have a wicked streak to you, Myka Bering.”

“Oh, Helena, if you _only knew_.” Wolly tapped a finger against Myka’s nose, much to her annoyance. He gave Myka a charming smile, “You have to be careful around this one…she’ll sneak up on you.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” The tone of H.G.’s voice sank immediately into Myka’s gut, spreading heat and nerves through her system. When she saw the decidedly _evil_ grin H.G. was giving her, all of her thoughts about H.G.’s apparent indifference or annoyance fled out the window, along with her questions about H.G.’s relationship with Wolly, because _that_ was not the look of someone that had been scared off by Myka’s attention and openness; in fact, it was the look of the exact opposite, laced as it was with apparent want and teasing playfulness.

Seeming to sense some sort of excitement that he was determined to not miss out on, Trailer bounded towards the fence, immediately standing on his back legs to drape his paws across the top of the fence, begging for attention. Myka sighed, “Trailer…”

H.G. laughed softly, sliding down slightly to stand in front of Trailer, holding a hand out to him to allow him to decide whether he was comfortable enough for her to pet him. Almost instantly, he nudged his head under H.G.’s palm, wagging his tail rapidly as she scratched behind his ears, “Hello handsome.”

Trailer nestled further under H.G.’s attentive hand, perfectly content. Myka chuckled, once again feeling that unknowable warmth spreading through her stomach, “So are you good with _all animals_ or just horses and dogs?”

“Or I could just be good with _your_ animals,” H.G.’s eyes met Myka’s for a brief, weighted moment, before smiling softly and turning her attention back to Trailer.

“I better be careful or Kelly is going to steal her right out from under me, and I just got her here,” Wolly joked.

“And whatever would you do without me in your kitchen to keep your staff from murdering you?” H.G. shot Wolly a quick smirk.

“That is admittedly true. As we all know, I am, obviously, a devastating tyrant.”

“Ya never know, after all I was beginning to think that you were going to keep H.G. hidden in your new, _grand_ kitchen for the rest of the summer. No one seems to have seen her since your party.” Myka wasn’t even sure she recognized her own tone, raw and flirtatious as it was, something which she _never_ was, at least not so overtly.

Wolly rolled his eyes, “Excuse me for wanting to keep my best friend to myself for a _little while_.”

H.G. struck an elbow to Wolly’s ribs, “He’s teasing…though I will admit that the last week I’ve felt as though I was living at the hotel rather than my apartment, so you aren’t far off.”

“The joys of season prep and planning. This is the first night I’ve been home before ten, so I understand.”

Wolly’s eyes kept darting between the two of them, trying to gauge just what exactly was happening, wondering if he should have kept his thoughts and warnings to himself, because listening to them talk, watching them together, he didn’t see how anything he said could possibly keep this from happening. He suddenly found himself wondering if he might not end up _rooting_ for this to happen, the smiles on both of their faces was enough to convince him to possibly start changing his tune. He gave Myka a scrutinizing look, nodding his head back towards the table, “Why don’t you join us for dinner, Myka? Between the two of us, we made _way too much_ food and trust me when I say, since we made it, it will be _delicious_.”

The immediate look of _eagerness_ that flew into H.G.’s eyes was enough to make Myka want nothing more than to accept Wolly’s invitation while simultaneously, a voice that sounded far too much like Steve’s echoed around her head telling her to be careful. She shot a look over her shoulder, a hand coming up to palm the back of her neck, “Thank you…but I don’t want to intrude…”

“You won’t…” Wolly tried to cut in.

“ _Plus_ , I already have dinner in the oven,” Myka bowled over him, “so I should probably get inside actually.”

“Are you sure, Myka? We would love to have you. _Save me_ from spending an entire evening with this man after working with him all day.”

Now, Myka could tell there was definite hope, blatant invitation in H.G.’s tone, but she willed herself to draw back, to not give in to this pulsing desire to just _push forward_ and see where that took them. She gave H.G. what she hoped was an apologetic smile, “While I do wish I could save you from such a prospect, I’ll have to take a rain check.”

H.G. gave her a teasing smile, “Suit yourself, but you _will_ be depriving yourself of a spectacular dessert, if I do say so myself.”

“Ah! My dear Helena, allow me to introduce you to the brick wall that is Myka Bering and sugar. Attempt to ply her all you want, but that is a hopeless effort,” Wolly said dramatically.

“You don’t eat sugar?” Helena asked with shock and incredulity written across her face.

Myka rolled her eyes at Wolly with a sigh, “It’s not that I _don’t_ , I just don’t eat a ton of it. It’s more of a principle rather than a practice sort of thing.”

“Give her Twizzlers, she will eat them forever. Give her a gorgeous, perfect, immaculately made dessert, she will turn you down in a heartbeat. _Trust me_ , I have tried,” Wolly teased.

“That may be the single most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever heard,” Helena joked. “As a pastry chef, I feel it is my duty to tell you that you don’t know what you’re missing.”

Myka wondered if there was more to that sentence than the simple fact that she was missing out on dessert. She held her hands up, “Before the _real mocking_ can begin, I’m going to go eat my dinner and stop keeping you two from yours. Have a good night.”

Wolly sighed, “ _Fine_. Ignore us. Miss out on all this _fun_.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive, Wolly, impossible as that is to imagine.” She shot a quick glance to H.G., giving her a soft smile, “Good luck tomorrow. First real day…”

H.G.’s look was unreadable, but she returned the smile, “Thank you, Myka. Enjoy your evening.”

“You too. If he starts driving you insane feel free to hop the fence for cover.”

H.G. laughed brightly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Though your attack dog here might prevent me from doing so.” She leaned on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Trailer’s exceedingly wet nose, giving him a last scratch behind the ears.

Myka’s laughter joined H.G.’s, leaning a hand down to pat against Trailer’s side, “Oh yeah, best guard dog on the Island, this one. If guarding includes immediately rolling on your back and demanding that your belly be rubbed.”

“Ignore her, Trailer. You are adorable, and I will gladly rub your belly whenever you would like.” H.G. soothed a hand over his head.

Myka shook her head, “Careful, he will hold you to that.”

“Well…sometime I might have to hop the fence and see if that’s the case…” H.G. gave Myka one more lingering glance before letting out what seemed to be a saddened sigh, “Have a good night, Myka. Hopefully, I’ll be released from the kitchen a bit more so you don’t think I’ve disappeared on anyone.”

Myka gave her a scrutinizing glance, remembering their conversation from the other night, “Hopefully…but I have a feeling we aren’t at any risk of you hopping a ferry and abandoning us…” 

Myka’s voice lilted with a hint of question, H.G. recognizing it immediately for what it was, a subtle, almost secretive way of asking her if she had adjusted enough to find her footing, if she had lost her inclination to flee. She gave Myka a soft smile, taking in the way that the glow of the lights from both of the backyards seemed to dance and skate through her hair, playing off her skin with a kind of ethereal magic, “Yes, I do believe we are quite safe from that…”

Myka’s smile expanded brightly, giving her a small nod, whispering out, “Good,” before turning back towards her own porch with a wave over her shoulder, “Enjoy what apparently is going to be the best dinner and dessert ever created.”

H.G.’s voice danced back over her, “I will say it again, Myka Bering… _wicked streak_.”

**

As it always did, May first descended in a flurry of chaos, nerves, and exuberance. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Main Street was flooded with people, rendering it no longer a simple, easy task to maneuver a bike _or_ a carriage down the thoroughfare, but rather a nerve-wracking test of wills to manipulate your way through the throng with hurting yourself, a tourist, or a horse in the process. 

Despite the fact that the same thing, without fail, happened every year, the seasonal shift careened into the carriage company with one phone call. 

When the phone on Myka’s desk rang, Steve leaned against the doorjamb of her office with a confident smirk, “Different year, same phone call.”

Myka, fingers trembling against her will, lifted her eyebrows at him, “Who knows, maybe this year, we’ll get a surprise and this won’t be that call.”

“Doubtful, but I’m not placing any bets on it. God knows, I do not need to lose _more bets_ before the season has even started.”

Myka rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore the not so subtle commentary on their conversation from days previous. Steve had remained blissfully mum on the topic of H.G. since that first conversation and Myka wanted nothing more than to keep it that way. Myka took a deep breath, “Ok, I should _probably_ answer this.”

“Probably,” Steve grinned.

Myka snatched up the phone before it could roll over into another ring, “Mackinac Island Carriage Tours, this is Myka.” 

Steve watched as Myka gave him a small smile, mouthing, “Same phone call,” to him, before returning her attention to the voice on the other end of the phone. Myka said little, simply nodding and murmuring assent to what seemed a never-ending list of requests, her pen scribbling fiercely over her notebook, ensuring that she didn’t miss anything, that nothing was left to chance _or_ her eidetic memory. Finally, she gave a definitive nod, “Of course, ma’am, we will be ready whenever they arrive.” There was a momentary pause before Myka continued, “Yes, the booth right on Main Street. We will have a carriage there waiting. Thank you so much.” She disconnected the call with a small breath of laughter, “It’s good to know that some things don’t change.”

Steve nodded, his face suddenly devolving into something serious, almost concerned, “So who is it going to be?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question, Steve.”

“Like I said, I am no longer hedging _any bets_ , even on sure things.”

Myka sighed quietly, wondering if this was going to be a _thing_ the rest of the summer, the casual side comments about her and H.G., despite the fact that they had done _absolutely nothing_ to deserve such commentary. She flipped through a few pages of paperwork on her desk, double checking and making sure that this very first, very vital part of the summer was ready. Assured that all was in fact in place, she stood, giving Steve a smile, “Of course, it will be Claudia. She can take The Inventors for the first leg, and hand off to Fargo with The Jennies for the second half.”

Steve quirked one eyebrow, lips pulled in a tiny, questioning smile, “Fargo over Todd, huh? Tipping your hand about how you hope all of _that_ plays out this summer?”

“Oh my God,” Myka groaned, “I swear, summer begins and all anyone can think about is who is going to end up sleeping together.” She watched as Steve continued to give her an amused grin, remaining entirely silent. She let out another groan, “ _This decision_ is purely about work. I took tours with both Fargo and Todd, and Fargo was absolutely at the top of his game. He was funny and engaging, had a few new stories worked in. He earned it…”

“And?” Steve’s voice lilted towards teasing.

“And,” Myka prolonged the word, punctuating it with a roll of her eyes, purely at herself, “and I might be hoping that things work out that way as well, _however_ , like I said, _this is not about that!_ ”

“Uh huh, whatever you say, boss,” Steve pushed himself off of the doorjamb with a laugh, “I’ll go tell Fargo to get his team ready and up to Surrey Hill for the switch.”

As Steve exited the office, Myka shifted a few things around her desk before calling out loud enough to echo through the stables, “Claud? Can you come in here, please?”

Claudia bounded into the office with a wide smile, “What’s up boss?” She collapsed into one of Myka’s chairs, legs hanging off of one of the arms.

Myka chuckled, knowing that Claudia most likely _knew_ what this conversation was going to be about and yet she seemed completely unfazed, completely and utterly still her normal, quirky, exuberant self, despite the pressure that was about to be placed on her shoulders. Myka took a deep breath, “So, we just got the call from the Governor’s chief of staff.”

“The ‘he has arrived and would like the first tour’ call?”

Myka smirked, “The very same. They would like a ten thirty tour, and I would like you to do the first half of that tour.”

Claudia’s eyes widened in seemingly genuine surprise, “Are you serious?”

Myka’s smile softened, quieted into something she hoped looked like pride, because that’s exactly what she was feeling, “I am very serious, Claud. This is your last summer. I would not want anyone else kicking off the season this year. You’ve earned this.”

Claudia drew in a deep breath, making a valiant attempt at keeping her emotions in check, “Wow…thank you, Myka. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome. Just be sure to take care of my boys out there, ok?”

Claudia gave her a playful salute, “They are in good hands.” Seeing a small waver of nerves skitter across Myka’s face, Claudia slid her legs off the arm of the chair and leaned forward, eyeing Myka carefully, “I promise, Myka. I know how much it means to have been put in charge of them this year. We’ve been out a lot the last week and I feel comfortable with them, they listen to my commands, they’re calm with me, they trust me and I trust them. It’s taken a few summers to get there, but we’re ready. I’ve got them.”

Myka swallowed down any words of caution or advice she might have had racing around her mind, “I know you do. They’re all yours.”

Claudia stood with a bright smile, her eyes shimmering with quick decision, moving around Myka’s desk and engulfing her in a tight hug, whispering, “Thank you…”

Myka stifled a small chuckle, returning the hug gratefully, “Again, you’re welcome.” Claudia pulled away and began moving towards the door, before Myka called her back, giving her a bright smile, “Good luck, Claud.”

Claudia have her a small nod, but didn’t say anything, just tapped a light hand against the door frame and moved out of sight towards Tesla and Farnsworth’s stables.

**

Finally, at nine o’clock, Myka trudged out of her office, flicking the lights off with only a small glance back at her desk to assess how much work she would have waiting for her in the morning, in the too few hours away morning. The rest of the staff had already cleared out, even Steve, whom she had sent home around eight, so that one of them would be relatively well-rested the next day. 

She knew that she needed to go home and simply _collapse_ , but also knew that her body wouldn’t allow it. There was too much adrenaline and stray energy coursing through her to allow her the ability to shut off and shut down just yet. The first few weeks were always like this, her body taking time to adjust to the hectic nature of the long days, her mind once again adapting to having way too many things to think about all at once. Eventually, she would hit a rhythm and she wouldn’t be as tired, she wouldn’t be as wired, but for now, she knew she would just have to ride out the early storm. 

Overall, the day had gone smoothly. Claudia and Fargo had done exceptionally, even encouraging another phone call later in the day from the Governor’s staff to comment on how much their tours were appreciated. Myka knew that they would be returning to their apartments with pockets weighted down by exceedingly generous tips and she was glad that they were starting their final summer out on such a good note. There were the inevitable hiccups. New kids who weren’t quite used to the breakneck pace. New pairings of guides and horses, which always led to a few kinks occurring. There had been a small backlog later in the afternoon at Surrey Hill where the two horse carriages gave way to the three horse ones, a necessary shift for the second half of the tour which was a much more rigorous course through the woods with far more steep hills to endure. The short wait put them a bit behind schedule for the day, but it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and ultimately Myka returned home feeling good, content that the summer was starting off on the right foot.

As she unlocked her bike from the fence near the stables, she heard a shout behind her, “Mykes!” There was the sound of wheels speeding up before Pete hit the brakes of his bike harder than necessary, kicking up a little bit of dust behind him, “I hoped I’d catch you on your way home.”

Myka gave him a wide smile, shifting her bike next to his so that they could begin the slow ride home. She sniffed playfully, “You smell like chocolate.”

Pete gave a dramatic sniff to his bicep, “Smells of summer, man.”

“How was the first day?”

“Busy. Busier than usual actually, I don’t remember there being this many tourists up here right at the start in a long time.”

Myka nodded, her tone sharing his surprise, “I know, right? Usually we have a couple of free slots at the start, but it was non-stop today. If this keeps up, it might kill my kids.”

“Nah…they’ll be fine. They survived Myka boot camp, they’ll be ready.”

Myka rolled her eyes, even though she knew Pete couldn’t see it, but she figured he could sense it, “I am _not_ that bad.”

“You are _exactly_ that bad, but hey…someone has to keep the carriages rolling.”

Myka knew he was right, knew that she did keep her kids in line with a bit more vigor than was possibly necessary, but she also knew he was right in that someone had to keep the carriage company running as it had been for decades, and that person was her, so if she demanded and expected perfection? Well, it was a necessary evil. She sighed, “If this keeps up, maybe I’ll figure out a way to give them all a break in a few weeks. Take them out or something, whatever keeps them happy.”

“I’ll be happy when all of our schedules get into a rhythm and we can start the actual _fun_ of summer.”

“The actual fun of summer?” Myka questioned playfully.

“Hell yeah. Bonfires. Dinners. Late night hikes. All those things that leave us exhausted but _happy_.”

Myka grinned, breathing in a contented waft of the crisp still tinged with spring air, “Give it another week or so and we’ll get there. At that point, we’ll all be ready for a little bit of relaxation.”

“I feel like I haven’t seen anyone since Wolly’s party. It always gets so crazy right before everything starts, I kind of hate that.”

“We’ll get back into our traditions, don’t worry.”

There was a momentary lapse, a brief silence, until Pete gave Myka a sidelong glance that was unreadable, “How’s the British invasion going? She still here or did we all scare her off?”

Myka swallowed thickly, hoping desperately that her voice didn’t betray _anything_ of what that question caused to arise in her mind, in her emotions, “Shockingly, despite our insanity, she’s still here. She was at Wolly’s the other night, she seems to be settling in a bit.”

“Wolly needs to get a move on or I’m going to lose that bet…” 

Myka tried to ignore Pete’s commentary, yet she couldn’t help but notice that he, like Steve, seemed to have lost his heart for the bet regarding Wolly and H.G., and she wondered if his thoughts were the same as Steve’s, though she was wildly unwilling to venture down any path that would give her an answer to that question. Instead, she opted to play along, pretend as though this bet didn’t drive her absolutely crazy, pretend as though she couldn’t fathom how she would feel if Wolly and H.G. did end up becoming a thing, even though she was certain that it was a ridiculous notion, “Well, ya know, Wolly doesn’t have the Lattimer charm working for him, so it might take a bit of time…”

“Hey, hey, hey, you are absolutely right about that. _No one_ can hold a candle to this.”

Myka rolled her eyes with a small laugh as she slowed her bike as they drew nearer to her house, “You’re ridiculous.”

“ _I_ am awesome, Mykes. Don’t you forget it.”

Myka hopped off of her bike, leaning over to drop a kiss to Pete’s cheek, before leveling a playful punch to his arm, “As if you’d ever _let_ me forget it.”

“Ouch!” Pete rubbed dramatically at his arm.

“You gotta get those muscles back in form there, Lattimer, if that hurt. That fudge won’t make itself.”

“Yeah…yeah…go get in your house woman, before I forget why you’re my best friend.”

“Now there’s something _I_ will never let _you_ forget. I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe we can figure out some dinner plans and stuff with Claudia and Steve?”

Pete’s smile was bright even in the dark, “Yeah, _absolutely_. Plus, you know my mom will be rounding us up soon for that too.”

“Rituals of summer,” Myka sighed contentedly.

“Rituals of summer. G’night, Mykes.”

“Night.” 

Myka locked her bike up against one of the porch rails and turned to unlock her door, almost tripping over something on her welcome mat in the process. “What the…” she leaned down to find a medium sized yellow box emblazoned with the Grand Hotel monogram on the top, a post-it note attached just underneath the emblem. 

She let herself into the house, her knees immediately bombarded by Trailer, who was anxiously awaiting her attention. She scratched at his ears distractedly, turning on a few more lights besides the ones she left on so that Trailer could meander around the house clearly while she wasn’t home, and set her stuff on the couch before finally turning her attention to the note attached to her mysterious package.

The handwriting flowed across the small space with a wild though elegant lilt:

_It is possible that my purpose for coming to this Island was to show you the wonders of sugar… ~H_

Laughter bubbled out of Myka’s throat, even as she felt her cheeks flush, a bubble of warmth spreading from her chest and settling low in her stomach. Inwardly, she kicked herself for such a visceral response to a damn _note_ , but this was so blatantly _something_ , something that she was deeply concerned she wasn’t going to be able to ignore for long. 

She flipped open the top of the box to find a small plate of what appeared to be the most perfect chocolate chip cookies ever made, golden-brown and, if the smell that wafted out of the box was any indication, still slightly warm. She set the box on the table, but not before extracting one of the cookies from the plate inside. It was true what she had told H.G. the night before, the sugar thing, though everyone liked to tease her mercilessly about it, was much more of a principle sort of thing, rather than a die hard practice, yet she couldn’t help but find it unbelievably endearing, sweet, _adorable_ even that H.G. had taken such apparent offense at it, and was seeking to rectify what she apparently saw as an egregious wrong. 

Trailer stood by Myka’s knees, sniffing dramatically, as if even he could sense that there was something _different_ in their house. Myka chuckled, ruffling the fur on top of his head, “None of these for you, bud.” All it took was one small bite for Myka to realize that turning down the dinner offer had been a horrendous mistake, because for something as simple as a chocolate chip cookie, it was heavenly; the perfect balance of chew and a light crispiness on the bottom, still warm enough to cause the chocolate to drip and ooze out delicately, and the distinctly surprising crunch of what appeared to be crushed up toffee. Myka took another bite, stepping to the fridge to get out her milk, shooting a look at Trailer, “These are ridiculously good…”

Taking another cookie with her to the couch along with her milk, Myka settled into the cushions, quickly followed by Trailer who slumped his head onto her lap, staring fascinated at the cookie. She smirked, “Give it up, Trailer. No amount of puppy dog eyes are going to work here.” Trailer huffed loudly, eliciting more laughter as Myka finished the second cookie, catching a stray bit of chocolate that was dripping down her thumb with the tip of her tongue. 

Without much forethought, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and quickly dialed Wolly.

“Survived the first day, huh?” Wolly always answered the phone mid-conversation, never one for greetings or segues, but preferring to dive right in to whatever thoughts were always racing through his mind.

Myka chuckled warmly, “Relatively. Everyone is still in one piece, so I’d call that a success. You?”

“Me? I’m not calling anything a success until we get through tomorrow night, and then I’ll let you know.”

“Hey, if you need it, you know I always have a bottle of scotch ready and waiting for you, all you have to do is ask.”

“It is appreciated, and I may have to take you up on that. We’ll see if I’m still functioning by this time tomorrow.”

Myka held out for the smallest of seconds, wondering how to proceed with what she was calling about, but then figured she might as well just dive right in. She cleared her throat roughly, “So…don’t read anything into this, but what’s H.G.’s number?”

Wolly’s laughter reverberated through the speaker so loudly that Myka had to hold the phone away from her ear until she was certain she heard him speaking, “Ya know, I probably wouldn’t have read _a thing_ into that question if you hadn’t told me that I shouldn’t.”

“Seriously…it’s nothing, well, if her attempting to lull me into a sugar coma is nothing…”

“Well, now I have all kinds of questions. Questions like how the world is not crumbling to bits outside my windows if _you_ are in a sugar coma? Questions like whatever will the world do if Myka Bering, the bastion of her principles, has been slayed so quickly by the machinations of my best friend? Questions like how on earth did she accomplish such a thing?”

“Did anyone ever tell you that if culinary school hadn’t panned out, you would have done wonders in theater there, drama king?”

Wolly scoffed, “Did anyone ever tell _you_ that you deserve a crown for being queen of avoiding the topic?”

“Touche, Wolcott.”

“Indeed. So…explanations. You’re in a sugar coma courtesy of Helena?”

Myka was suddenly thankful that this conversation was happening over the phone and not in person, because there was no way that Wolly would miss the blush spreading across her cheeks, the unabashed, _slightly foolish_ , giddiness that was currently racing through her system, “She left a box of cookies on my doorstep, insisting she has come to the Island to convince me of the wonders of sugar.”

Once again Wolly’s laughter overpowered the conversation and by the end of it he was nearly breathless, “God…she is something else. Ever determined, my dear Helena.” There was a brief pause, before Wolly practically shouted, “ _That’s_ why she asked me if I thought you had any allergies!”

Myka silently felt a small kind of thrill that H.G. had apparently put so much _thought_ into one little gesture. She didn’t dare give voice to that thought though, and simply said, “It wouldn’t have suited her purposes if she killed me with something I suppose. Hives aren’t exactly the best case for sugar’s wonders…”

“Lucky for you, and her I guess, that you are blissfully allergy free.”

“Lucky me indeed…so…I would like to call her to say thank you…”

“ _Right_ , her phone number, for all the _thank you’s_ you have to say.”

Myka fought back the urge to call Wolly out for his tone, for his tone which did very little in the way of disguising what he _clearly_ thought about the situation. Myka was unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing just what exactly H.G.’s little _gesture_ had done to her carefully laid, cautious plans. She scribbled down the number Wolly gave her, thanked him for it, and disconnected the call as quickly as possible to avoid any other unneeded commentary. She was positive she’d already given him enough ammunition with what little she _had_ said, she didn’t need to give him anymore.

Staring at the numbers she had written, Myka was suddenly, involuntarily, _wildly and irrationally_ , overcome with nerves. She scraped her nails across her forehead, “Jesus…what am I doing?” Trailer perked his head up at the question in some vague attempt at trying to answer her, or least to simply acknowledge that it wasn’t a question spoken into the void. Sighing, Myka tipped her head back against the couch, staring at her phone, continuing to address her train of thought to Trailer, “This is insane. It’s a phone call, a necessary because it is polite to say thank you, phone call. That is all. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

With a bit more force than necessary, Myka punched the number into her phone and hit call, trying desperately to ignore how fast her heart was beating or how hard breathing was becoming. 

Faster than she expected and before she was properly prepared for it, the call connected, and H.G.’s voice was echoing through the speaker, sounding mildly curious, almost cautious, “Hello?”

Once again, Myka found herself in the position of just trying to _ignore_ every single signal her body was sending her so that she could try her ardent best to school her tone into something calmly casual, “Hey H.G., umm…it’s Myka.”

Myka could practically _hear_ H.G.’s smile, the soft whooshing exhalation of breath on the other end of the line as though she was almost _relieved_ that it was Myka calling, “I wondered if it might be you, seeing as the only person I know with a Michigan number is Wolly…”

“Process of elimination given the fact that I’m assuming you didn’t go around leaving cookies for everyone on this Island tonight…”

“Well, you never know…I do happen to have impeccable manners. For all you know I might just find cookies to be the most polite way to introduce myself…” 

H.G.’s tone was so…teasingly content, as though they had already had this kind of conversation a thousand times over, as though neither of them needed the time to figure out how best to communicate with each other, as though this was simply something they had _always done_. Myka found herself unconsciously easing down onto the couch, lulled into an odd kind of comfort by the warmth in H.G.’s voice, “I feel it is my duty to warn you that if you choose to be polite to _Pete_ by way of cookies, he will follow you around this Island like a puppy dog for the entirety of the summer…”

H.G. laughed warmly, though a bit incredulously, “Doesn’t he spend his entire day making fudge? You’d think that would be enough sugar…”

Myka couldn’t stop the burst of laughter that fled her lungs, “Trust me, once you get to know Pete, you will realize he is a bottomless pit when it comes to all things food related…sugar in particular.”

“Well, it’s at least good to know that _one person_ amongst Wolly’s group of friends will be able to appreciate me being around. If I’d known I simply needed to ply a few people with sugar, I would have come to that party better prepared…”

“For those aforementioned impeccable manners, you just jumped to a pretty intense conclusion that _I_ am not appreciative of your presence. Are you already assuming your sugar offering failed?” Myka couldn’t help but roll her eyes at how she sounded. She hadn’t made this call to _flirt_ , if that’s what one could call it, but apparently that’s what she was going to do anyway.

“According to Wolly, you are a bastion of strength on this front. It would be woefully rude of me to assume that your sugar-avoiding brick walls were so easily toppled by one plate of cookies…though I will admit they were damn good cookies.”

Myka’s teeth chased over her lip, gathering her thoughts, “So, am I to assume the cookies were merely a first volley at said brick walls? Because if I’m going to have food at my door everyday, I’m going to need to expand my running schedule…”

“I believe that you will have to wait and see on that. It would do me no good to reveal my plot to you when it’s just beginning.” 

H.G’s voice tripped into Myka’s ear as a kind of dance, lulling her into a hypnotic kind of warmth, “A plot, huh? That sounds pretty intense.”

“Well, as I said in my note, if this is to be my reason for being here…what fun would it be to have it over and done with in one night? It is a rather long summer…or so I’ve been told.”

Myka sighed, fearing instantly that it sounded a bit desperate, “You’ve been told correctly…trust me.”

“So I have plenty of time to bring you over to the dark side…”

Fresh laughter bubbled out of Myka’s throat, “Did you just make a _Star Wars reference_? Because, wow…I did not read you as a nerd…”

H.G. scoffed playfully, “I am going to ignore that comment and simply say that I am a well of surprises, one of which happens to be a certain affinity for sci-fi. If that renders me… _nerdy_ …”

“I actually think it renders you well suited to your name…”

This time it was H.G.’s turn to laugh brightly, “Indeed. I do believe I came about that quite honestly.”

“A nerdy pastry chef with a penchant for chocolate chip cookies…that’s quite a persona, H.G.”

“Was that your very subtle way of telling me that you did, in fact, despite claiming an aversion to sugar, _enjoy_ the cookies?”

“I’m actually not sure it was meant to be subtle…”

“Mark one victory down for me then…” H.G.’s tone was almost hushed, though still teasing.

“I didn’t realize this was a competition.”

“Whatever it is, you should know that I _do_ intend on winning.”

“Nerdy _and_ competitive, well of surprises indeed.”

Their conversation ebbed and flowed in an easy kind of playful banter for a few minutes more until Myka was unable to hold back a very distinct yawn. H.G. laughed softly, “You sound as though it might be time for bed.”

Myka sighed, unwilling to admit that it was true, unwilling to admit she wanted absolutely nothing to do with getting off of the phone, “It’s been a long day…first day always is…”

“I learned that lesson myself today, and tomorrow does not promise to be any shorter. If anything, I believe it will be significantly longer.”

“Governor’s dinner is always a big day up there. Good luck with that…”

“Thank you, I do believe I will be needing it.”

“Make him some chocolate chip cookies…I hear they do wonders for winning people over…”

H.G. paused for a brief moment, before saying with just a slight _twinge_ , almost a husk in her voice, “And here I thought I had already accomplished that even before the cookies…”

Myka felt a rush of heat spread from her chest and seep into her stomach, her own voice reflecting it, “You’ll just have to wait and see about that won’t you?”

If Myka wasn’t mistaken she heard H.G. clear her throat roughly before responding, “I suppose I will. Good night, Myka.”

Myka chuckled softly, a strange kind of pride stirring below her ribs that she had seemingly managed to throw H.G. just the slightest bit off-kilter, happy that she wasn’t the only one experiencing such a sensation, “Good night, Nerd.”

There was a soft, playful chuckle, a mere exhalation of breath, which did nothing but dangerous things to Myka’s thought processes, and then the call was disconnected.

Myka got ready for bed in a kind of mindless trance, her brain replaying certain turns of phrase that H.G. had said, the way her voice sometimes hitched, sometimes danced depending on what she was saying. Eventually, she sank into bed, Trailer nestled against her feet, with a sigh. She had done nothing cautiously tonight and she didn’t feel the slightest bit sorry for that, but she had to admit the thought scared her, unnerved her, made her wonder how on earth she would survive the summer. Before she drifted off to sleep, a stray thought struck her and she once again picked up her phone, though this time she simply pulled up a new message.

_I just now realized that I had called to say thank you for the cookies and never actually managed to say it. So…thank you…_

She didn’t anticipate a response, figuring that H.G. was already asleep, but within moments her phone vibrated with an answer.

_You…oh wicked one…are quite welcome…_

Myka stared at the message for far longer than she would care to admit before depositing her phone back on her nightstand with a sigh. Once again, she spoke her thoughts into the night, spilling them to no one but the dog, “Oh Trailer…I am in so much goddamn trouble…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you, thank you for reading!! Next chapter will be pretty much 100% Bering and Wells centered so I beg of your patience as I continue to edit :-)


	4. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when you finally have a day off and you've had a...distracted...morning?
> 
> Obviously, you decide to spend the rest of the day with the cause of said distraction.
> 
> Otherwise known as Myka and HG both make good on some promises and it leads to a rather interesting day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here in the States its Thanksgiving and while I am attempting to ward off a turkey-induced coma, I figured what better way to tell all y'all crazy Bering & Wells folks how much I appreciate all of your words, your art, and your just general awesomeness than get this chapter ready for your Island journey enjoyment. 
> 
> As ever and always, thanks to @MuddyPuppy for the excellent beta :-)

Warm yet firm hands wrapped around Myka’s ribs, pressing her against the mattress in some kind of apparent effort to keep her _still_. Fingertips dug into the muscles of Myka’s back pulling her body up and into the body above her, rendering every inch of her skin painfully, _blissfully_ aware of the slide and rush of another’s skin against her own. 

A sound that Myka vaguely registered _must have_ come from her own throat bubbled out of her completely involuntarily, a sound that could only be described as a keening moan, as lips moved heatedly against her throat. She could feel her own pulse pounding against those lips which refused to stop moving, which kept pressing at her skin, followed by teeth nipping playfully, drawing a small, unexpected yelp, which quickly devolved into another, deeper moan, as a tongue chased those teeth. The blood pounding in Myka’s ears was almost enough to drown out the sound of anything else, _almost_ if not for the fact that her own apparent, pulsating need was blatant enough to elicit a dancing trickle of laughter from the owner of the lips that were moving swiftly down to her collarbone. The sound was vaguely familiar, though Myka was too lost in sensation to register its owner properly, barely aware that the sound somehow made it through the fog of her desire to settle right below her navel. 

Myka fought against the grip around her ribs, arching her back up and against heated skin, her own nails scraping down the toned muscles of shoulder blades, to dip and settle against the soft skin and pliant muscles of a lower back, encouraging the body above her to give into those movements with the forward pressure of hips dipping and pushing with the right amount of friction to conjure a muffled, shared groan of pleasure from both bodies occupying Myka’s bed. 

Myka’s awareness was quickly dwindling into nothingness, or at least nothingness regarding anything around her except for the body moving against her, the skin sliding over her own, the sweat that was starting to mingle with her own. She was barely conscious enough to process that she was, in fact, in her own bed, with decidedly precious few clothes on, her vision completely obscured by a cascade of dark hair curtained around her face, where once again there were lips buried against her collarbone, moving with a shade more aggression, a hint more desperation. All consciousness melted away and reemerged centered on the tripping, tantalizing, slow progress of fingertips down her abdomen, of the slightest bite of fingernail at the edge of fabric and skin, of the deeper, throatier, _wickeder_ laughter echoing through her ears as she once again found herself incapable of controlling the noises spilling out of her throat. 

Nothing had even happened and yet Myka was certain that her heart was going to pound out of her chest or she was simply going to pass out from lack of air. Her breathing was no longer capable of coming regularly, but instead was pushing out of her in fits and starts and tiny gasps, which were rendering her dizzier than she already was, high on the person whose fingers were starting to creep lower. Completely out of her mind high on the person who seemed to be drawing in a breath to say something, whose lips began to frame the shell of Myka’s ear, even as a hand wrapped around Myka’s thigh drawing it up, in, to wrap around a toned hip. Myka wanted nothing more than to hear what that voice was going to say, to allow herself to topple over into whatever depths of desire it was willing her towards, to lose herself into the intricate kind of unconsciousness that only came from that seemingly mystical place where intimacy met desire. Myka was so ready to fall, to go wherever that voice willed her, to follow wherever those fingertips and hands were going to pull her…she was ready, she just needed to hear the right word, the right hint and she knew she would be lost…and that voice…it felt so close…so beautifully close…so dangerously close…

Myka awoke with a jerk, her body bolting upright, eyes snapping open, lungs burning with a need for breath as she sucked in deep gulps of the cold air that was filtering in from the window she had left open to the crisp but pleasant early summer wind. Her room was still swathed in darkness, the world around her drenched in silence save for Trailer’s heavy breathing coming from the foot of the bed and the whistle of the wind. She eased herself back against her pillows, a hand dragging across her forehead, not even surprised that it pulled away damp. Each of her muscles ached with a certain kind of longing, as if remembering the feel of skin, of hands, that hadn’t been there in anything other than her imagination. Her skin tingled as her pulse continued to pound. She was painfully aware of the burning desire racing through her bloodstream like the purest form of a drug she hadn’t even realized she was addicted to, that she hadn’t even actually put into her system, though her body already seemed attuned to its presence. 

She _knew_ beyond a shadow of a doubt to whom those hands that she could have sworn had actually been on her body belonged to, knew whose voice had been milliseconds away from dancing into her ear, knew whose hair had formed the picture perfect curtain of darkness around her fantasies to keep her from having to visually admit and face the truth of whom she had been dreaming… _fantasizing_ …about. With a deep sigh, Myka dragged the heels of her palms down her forehead to press against her eyes, but all that did was conjure up renewed images of pale skin and black nail polish and… _God_ …she did not want to go down this road. She cracked her eyes back open with a pathetic groan, turning to bury her head against her pillow to drown out the noise, ignoring the fact that the twist of her body was enough to tighten, to squeeze her muscles in just the right way to remind her that this want…this need…it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Myka refused to acknowledge the pounding of her blood, the pulse resounding deep in her body, because fantasizing about someone, that was one thing, but _acting_ on those fantasies…that was something else entirely, and Myka was already concerned enough about how she was going to be able to face H.G. again after a dream like that, she couldn’t imagine what she would do if she had to face her, look her in the eye, with the acute knowledge that she had thrown herself head first over the cliff of desire with only the image, the memory, the faint hint of H.G.’s voice in her head to get her there. The thought of seeing H.G. was enough to drive the want out of Myka’s mind and hurtle her into an acute sense of _dread_. She didn’t know how she was going to do this. How she was going to survive an entire summer with images like _those_ creeping into her subconscious? How she was going to manage to keep herself from giving into this desire at the first indication of reciprocation? She couldn’t take that risk. She couldn’t handle the idea of heartbreak at the hands of a summer fling. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, knew she shouldn’t do it, but she was beginning to wonder if she was even going to have a choice anymore. Already…already, in spite of _nothing_ happening, she felt too far gone…and that feeling left her reeling, balancing precariously on the edge of a cliff she knew was dangerous, that led to nothing but a never-ending fall and jagged rocks to meet her at the end.

**

It had taken an exorbitant amount of time, but Myka had finally willed herself back to sleep, which was blissfully dream free, allowing her to wake up feeling moderately relaxed, relatively well-rested, as long as she forced any and all memories of the night before from her mind. She convinced herself to take solace in the fact that it was Monday, the start of a new week, and it was her first real day off of the still early season. They had survived the Governor’s invasion of the weekend and Steve had told her that he would handle Monday on his own, that she was well-deserving of a day to herself after the insanity of the weekend. She had fought him the barest amount and then took the offering for what it was, glad of the time to herself.

She took a deep breath as she moved around the house, uncertain how she wanted to start the day. All she knew was that she needed something, _anything_ , to keep her from focusing on the images in her head. She wanted nothing more than to start the week off fresh, on the right foot, without any unnecessary _thoughts_. Idly, she plucked a cookie from the box which was still on the kitchen island, shrugging at its poor imitation of a proper breakfast, and ate it anyway, after all H.G. hadn’t been _wrong_ when she had said they were damn good cookies. They were, and Myka figured there was no point in letting them go to waste. In an effort at keeping herself distracted, she decided since she had the hours to herself she would take advantage of the time and walk downtown for coffee. The sun was shining brightly through the windows, the promise of summer dangling on the edge of everything. A walk would do her good. _Coffee_ would do her wonders. It would clear her head and then maybe she could _focus_ on doing something other than _thinking_ for the rest of the day.

Stepping outside, Myka idly wondered if the day was giving her an indication that the odds were strikingly in her favor, that it just might be gorgeous enough outside to drive away any and all thoughts of her morning, relegate them to a never-to-be discussed or thought of ever again corner of her brain, and thus allow her to actually drink in the scenery, the peacefulness that was ahead of her. The sun was warm but not blisteringly hot as she wound her way downtown, the wind pushing her curls back from her shoulders with just the right hint of summer to give her hope, blowing strong enough to bring with it the subtle sounds of waves crashing against the lakeshore the closer she got to town. 

She wound her way through the burgeoning crowd of early season tourists on Main Street, maneuvering around bikes and carriages making deliveries, in order to bring herself to a small coffee shop tucked away from the main drag. It lay in a quiet corner of the street, nestled up against the dock, just far enough away from downtown to never quite be as oppressively busy as everything else on Main Street. The gentle waft of coffee reached her nostrils before she had even opened the door, and once again she was buoyed with hope that in some way, shape, or form, today would end better than it had started. 

That naive hope was shattered into pieces at her feet the second she walked into J&R’s coffee to not only be greeted by Rebecca St. Clair’s jubilant, “Good morning stranger,” but, _of fucking course_ , also with the very obvious, very noticeable presence of H.G. settled into a table in the corner. H.G. seemed completely oblivious to Myka’s newfound presence in this space, completely, _thankfully_ , oblivious to the thoughts which immediately and forcefully reemerged in Myka’s mind in flashes and sparks. Nails. Breath. Fingertips. The press of hips against thighs. Lips parted in breathlessness and desire. It was all there in Myka’s mind as fresh and as real as it had been at four a.m., and it was enough to make Myka want to immediately turn tail, ignore Rebecca, and walk right back out of the shop, empty handed and coffee deprived, but at least her sanity would still be intact. At least she would still be in one piece and not on the floor in a heap of ashes from burning up in complete and total embarrassment…and other burning causing emotions. 

She wasn’t given a choice in the matter however because before she could process anything beyond the way that the sun was perfectly slanting off the water and through the windows to bathe H.G. in an ethereal glow, Myka was being engulfed in a tangle of arms, as Rebecca pulled her into a tight hug, which it took her several seconds to properly return.

Eventually, Rebecca broke away, holding her at arms length with a critical gaze, “You clearly need coffee because you look…odd. Are you ok?”

Myka fought to find her composure, to will her muscles to smile, her eyes to focus on Rebecca and _not_ on H.G. who still remained adamantly focused on her computer, unaware of anything else happening around her. Myka gave her head a slight shake, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good…just had…a rough night’s sleep is all. Nothing a little coffee can’t solve.”

“Well…” Rebecca clapped her hands softly, “obviously you are in the right place.” She wandered back around the corner of the counter, shooting a question over her shoulder even as her hands were already starting to reach for ingredients, “The usual?”

Myka chuckled softly, gesturing to Rebecca’s already occupied hands, “It seems you didn’t really need to ask…”

“I can never tell with you, someday you might just surprise me.”

“Today is not that day, Becs.” _I’ve had enough surprises for one day...for one lifetime… already_ , Myka thought. She leaned her elbows against the counter, eyes darting once again to see if H.G. remained oblivious to her presence. Finding her still silently occupied, Myka returned her attention to Rebecca, leaning forward to look behind the counter and towards the small prep space, “Where’s Jack?”

Rebecca spoke over her shoulder casually, “Down picking up a few deliveries from Doud’s. He figured he’d save them the trip down since things were a bit slow around here and it was a small order.”

“Ever the gentleman, your husband.”

Rebecca grinned, even as her eyes rolled spectacularly, “Don’t ever say that to him…he’ll take that and just run for miles.” 

“My lips are sealed.”

Rebecca slid Myka’s coffee across the counter and extracted a cranberry orange muffin from the case. Myka attempted a retort, but Rebecca cut it short with one look, “No arguments. You’re going to work your ass off this summer, probably already have, and you already look exhausted _and_ way too thin. Take it and be grateful. Plus, I know it’s your favorite, so… _there_.”

Myka rolled her eyes, but took the offering before her gratefully, sliding more money than necessary over the counter, “ _No arguments._ Take the money and _be grateful_ or I will never come back in here again.”

“Uh huh, I’ll believe that when I see it.” The bell on the door resounded behind Myka bringing with it a tiny cluster of tourists, eyes roving around the space, gauging whether this was where they had meant to wind up. Rebecca raised an eyebrow Myka’s way, “Sticking around for the morning? Or am I doomed to wait for you to magically appear in my doorway again sometime in the foreseeable future?”

Myka sighed heavily, knowing she _should_ leave, that if she didn’t, she would be flirting with danger…and well, most likely with H.G., and that was just _not_ on the agenda for the day. Today was supposed to be about self-preservation and distraction, none of which seemed in the cards for her, at least not if she stayed here. Her eyes darted back towards H.G., a gesture she hoped was subtle, before giving Rebecca a soft smile, pulling a thin paperback from the back pocket of her jeans, “I’ll be here.”

“Good. Then take a seat and leave me to my customers.”

Myka’s eyes roamed around the empty tables. She could just sit down and see if H.G. noticed her, act like this was _not a big deal_ , pretend that inside she wasn’t roiling with nerves and… _other feelings_. Yet she knew that was an idiotic choice, because how would it look if she sat down and _said nothing_ , only to have H.G. see her and realize that she had _said nothing_ , and take that gesture the wrong way, assume she was being ignored, undesired. That was the exact opposite of the impression Myka wanted to give, and so there was only one thing for her to do. She cleared her throat slightly, moving further into the seating area, and calling out carefully, “Hey nerd.”

If Myka’s heart rate was racing just from the simple act of seeing H.G., the stutter step it did when H.G. raised her head with a devastating smile already playing at her lips in ready acknowledgment of the nickname, of the person _using_ said nickname, well, Myka was certain the human heart wasn’t actually supposed to function that way, let alone be capable of such a thing. Therefore, she was sure that she was going to be saved any embarrassment, by simply keeling over dead right then and there. 

H.G.’s smile continued to brighten and grow as she took in Myka’s failed attempts to not fidget, to not let her eyes track over every inch of the person before her. H.G. opted to save the teasing comments that were dangling on the tip of her tongue and instead pushed a foot against the chair opposite her, sliding it out in clear invitation, “Hello yourself, wicked one.”

Unconsciously, Myka reached up to swipe a palm across the back of her neck, eyes darting away from the very obvious gesture H.G. was making. She waved a hand distractedly towards it, “You look like you’re working…I don’t want to intrude.”

H.G. settled back against her chair, cocking her head to the side in consideration, eyes scrutinizing, lips quirked in playful question, “You’re quite bad at accepting blatant invitations, aren’t you?”

Myka’s mind filtered back to the other night, to the dinner invitation she had avoided, feeling a wave of foolish uncertainty wash over her, or possibly just embarrassment at the fact that H.G. had read her so well, so quickly. Myka moved towards the proffered chair, settling into it with as much grace as she could muster on her suddenly shaky knees, “Sorry…I just…I just didn’t…”

“Want to intrude, yes, you mentioned that already,” H.G. teased. “I would have thought what with the pushing out a chair for you, it would be evident you aren’t intruding, or that if you were, I at least seemed as though I _wanted_ to be intruded upon.”

Myka felt a small blush creep into her cheeks; she wasn’t used to feeling this _off-kilter_ around people. She was usually the one in control, the one incapable of being shaken, and yet _here she was_ , very much not in control, very much _shaken_. She shrugged, taking a small sip of her coffee, “You’ll notice that despite my fruitless efforts at politeness, I didn’t exactly shy away from sitting down so…”

“Already susceptible to my impeccable British charm…I’ll have to remember that…”

Myka couldn’t stop her laughter, “Wow…ya know, I thought Wolly was bad, but that…that was something else.”

H.G. arched an eyebrow, “Ah, you will soon learn that William learned _everything_ he knows from me.”

“You see? Now I’m not sure I should have sat down because I just did not sign up for that much trouble this early in the morning on my day off.”

H.G.’s laughter was bright, warm, strangely comforting as it seeped into Myka’s bones, “On that you are very much right, darling. I am nothing but trouble…however…I believe we are treading very close to that territory of which we discussed so often the night we met…”

“Yeah? And what territory would that be?” Myka wasn’t sure she actually recognized the timbre, the lilt that had crept into her voice, but she realized quickly she was powerless to stop it, so she didn’t even feign an attempt.

“The territory of topics to be avoided amongst two people who have only recently met.”

“Ah…right, _that_. So, I’m not allowed in on what kind of trouble the woman who has dubbed me _wicked_ is, huh?”

“Not yet…but you never know…you might just need to give it time.”

There was a small beat, almost a hesitation, as though neither of them were quite sure what to say or do next now that they had brought themselves into this _territory_ again so quickly. Myka’s thumb fidgeted with the corner of her book, unsure _what on earth_ she could say to get the conversation back onto some kind of safe ground. H.G., however, was up to the task quicker than she was, smiling brightly, “Here I thought you said you rarely got a day off, and yet here you sit, oddly on the same day I have been granted the same luxury.”

Myka smiled softly, “Wolly finally set you free for a bit, huh?”

“He figured after the weekend and its attendant insanity, it was well deserved.”

Myka nodded knowingly, “That was pretty much Steve’s thinking with me as well. Governor’s weekend…if you survived that, then the rest of the summer should be a breeze.”

H.G. let out an exasperated breath, “It was quite unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in a kitchen, and that is saying something.”

“Sounds like you were, in fact, well deserving of the day off then.”

“Indeed,” Helena’s look was skeptical as she glanced back down at her computer, “though it hasn’t exactly kept me from _working_ on said day off.”

Myka gave her a curious look, “What are you working on?”

H.G. dragged an almost frustrated hand through her hair, pushing it back from her shoulders, “Recipes, actually. When I came up here, I guess I didn’t quite grasp the _magnitude_ of what this job would entail. The expectations at the hotel are quite…high, and I’m not sure I came adequately prepared. An entire summer…that is a great deal of meals to plan, especially when they are expected to never duplicate themselves.”

Myka felt a pang of empathy echo around her chest. She knew that feeling well, the expectations, the uncertainty, the pressure to do something _new_ with the same ingredients at hand. Every summer, people expected the carriage tours to be _different_ , despite the fact that the Island never changed. The stories, the history, they remained ever the same, but people didn’t come up to hear the same old stories, they always wanted _more_ , so without fail she would spend her winter months doing research, trying to find another angle to play, despite feeling as though she couldn’t possibly learn more about this Island than she already knew, and then, of course, there was always the added pressure of wanting nothing more than to live up to her grandfather’s legacy, the standard he had set. Without even fully processing what she was doing, Myka proceeded to tell H.G. just that, every single inch of it, ending with a self-deprecating smile and shake of her head, “So much for topics you don’t share with someone you just met. Please, allow me to lay out all my baggage right in front of you.”

Carefully, though with some sense of assurance behind it, H.G. reached a hand out, wrapping it around Myka’s wrist, willing Myka to hold her gaze, “That is not baggage, Myka. That is, if anything, one of the most honorable, _heartfelt_ , things I’ve heard. There is nothing wrong with wanting to keep your grandfather’s memory alive, in whatever way possible…” Unconsciously, H.G.’s hand reached up to toy with what looked like a locket lying beneath the fabric of her shirt, a gesture that Myka had noticed before, but hadn’t thought anything of, until it happened now, in the midst of what had suddenly turned into an emotionally weighted conversation.

Myka nodded slowly, eyes darting away in a vain effort to stall the tears she felt building behind her eyes, “I know…sometimes it’s just hard…knowing how everyone felt about him, knowing they all see him when they see me, knowing where their minds must lead them…”

“And where would their minds take them?”

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Myka realized where this conversation _had taken them_ and how much this _was not_ a conversation she wanted to have with H.G., at least not right now. Not when the sun was shining and their conversation had started out so playfully, there was no need to take it down the dark, not often trod pathways of her history. She shook her head quickly, “Nowhere, I just…like I said, I get it…the pressure, the expectation, so anything I can do to help with that…I’m here. If you need to talk…”

H.G.’s eyes bored into Myka’s, tracing her face as though she was trying to read her from the inside out, but instead of pushing forward, she simply saw what she saw and kept it to herself, offering Myka a small smile, before shaking her shoulders slightly and changing the topic abruptly, “So…other than coffee…what exactly were your plans for the day?”

Myka shrugged, inwardly thankful for the change of topic, “I’m not sure really. I probably need to go for a run,” she lifted up the muffin Rebecca had given her, “what with you and Becs both attempting to completely ruin my healthy eating.”

H.G. smirked, “I am doing nothing of the sort.”

“The cookie I had for breakfast would say otherwise.”

A quick look of what seemed like pride raced across H.G.’s face, “I merely provided them, I did not force you to eat them, especially for breakfast.”

“That’s true…still…you can make it up to me by splitting this with me so I don’t have to be subjected to a lecture from Rebecca about how I’m not eating.”

H.G. chuckled, reaching over to break an edge off of the muffin, “That’s an offer I will not turn down.”

Their conversation ebbed and slowed as they took turns breaking off sections of muffin, until it was gone and H.G. was once again giving Myka a scrutinizing look, “What would you say to me making good on your request for cookie-induced exercise, if it also meant that I cashed in on an offer you gave to me?”

Myka’s eyebrows knit together, “I think I’m going to need you to be a little less cryptic and then I’ll give you an answer.”

H.G. smiled softly, “Seeing as we both have the day off, and I was planning on biking the perimeter of the Island today, I thought I might take you up on your offer to show me around, _and_ it would allow you a modicum of exercise as well.”

A tiny bubble of anticipation swelled right below Myka’s ribs, because try as she might she couldn’t help but hear that offer as anything other than a _date_ , despite the fact that it was also a perfectly normal activity for two people who were clearly starting to become…friends. She finished her coffee with one last sip, then looked at H.G. with a bright smile, “I think that seems like a pretty good deal.”

“Excellent.” H.G. was practically _beaming_ , though Myka feared that was just her wishful thinking making her perceive it that way. H.G. glanced back down at her computer, “I do have a bit more work to do, does this afternoon work for you?”

“Absolutely,” and now Myka was certain _she_ was the one beaming. Idly, she thumbed against the pages of her book again, “Where do you want to meet?”

“My apartment is right along the main road out of town, Mission Point Townhouses…that seems like it might be a good place to start.”

“Sounds good, I’ll meet you around…two?” Myka was beyond helping how hopeful, how _buoyant_ her voice sounded.

“Wonderful.” H.G. looked down at where Myka’s fingers were fiddling with the pages of her book and was unable to keep herself from tapping a delicate nail against Myka’s book, “Apparently, _I_ am the one who was intruding upon plans for the morning by inviting you to sit down. If you had wanted to read, you were more than welcome, Myka…”

Myka bit the inside of her cheek in an effort to ignore the black nail polish and the thoughts that it conjured. She waved a hand dismissively, “No, it’s fine. _More than fine_ , trust me. Though, now that you mention it…” Myka’s eyes stole out to the water where the waves were lapping delicately, “it is a beautiful day. I think I’m going to head down to the water and read a bit.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay, Myka.”

Myka’s chest swelled again at the very obvious _hope_ in H.G.’s voice, but in the name of some misguided sense of self-preservation, Myka fought back against the desire to give in to the offer. They had had practically the entire morning, and they would have the afternoon, a little bit of distance couldn’t hurt. She stood with a smile, “I know…thank you…but there’s a spot just down the road that I like to take advantage of before the tourists descend and I can’t get within a mile of it, so I’ll see you this afternoon, ok?”

H.G. knew her smile was disappointed, but she willed her voice to not betray that emotion, “Of course. I’ll see you this afternoon.” She watched as Myka wove through the scattered tables of the shop, saying goodbye to Rebecca with a quick hug, before glancing over her shoulder and offering a soft wave back to H.G. It was a gesture she quickly returned, all the while trying to ignore the heat roiling through her stomach, the stilted nature of her breathing all at the hands of one damn smile from Myka Bering. She needed to be stronger than that…knew she should be…knew it was bloody impossible.

**

Myka was well into her second hour of reading, feet dangling in the water as the sun beat a bit harder against her neck where she had pulled her hair up into a messy bun, when her phone buzzed faintly. She wanted to ignore it and continue to drift in between the paragraphs and pages of the world swimming before her eyes, but when she saw the caller ID, she begrudgingly slid her bookmark into her spot and answered, “Hey Pete.”

“Mykes, Mykes, my number one gal, I am in need of entertainment.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “Number one gal, huh? You must be desperate.”

“I am!” Pete groaned, “I got off from my shift early and Kel’s at work until late and _I am bored_ , so I figured, it’s your day off, I suddenly kind of have a day off, what better way to spend it than to get a little best friend time in?”

Myka’s teeth pulled at the corner of her lip, tugging forcefully. She obviously knew she had very valid reasons to tell Pete why that offer, appealing though it was, just wasn’t an option today, yet she couldn’t help but hesitate to actually say it out loud. Pete had a way of thinking he was extremely subtle when he was anything but and she had already picked up on his _concern_ , the worried looks he had shot her whenever H.G. was around or whenever she was brought up.

“Yo! Earth to Mykes. Come on, could you possibly have a better offer than the one I just gave you?”

Myka sighed, _Jesus, he just had to make this difficult_ , “I make no comment on the better offer or not, however…I kind of already have plans…”

“Oh…well, I mean that sucks, but hey, it’s ok. So, what are ya up to then?” 

“Umm…well…I’m sort of going biking with H.G., giving her a tour of the Island.”

There was immediate silence. Myka rolled her eyes, pinching at the bridge of her nose, sometimes she wished Pete _> was_ capable of subtlety. She refused to acknowledge the silence, to acknowledge what Pete was very much still _saying_ despite his silence.

Finally, the dam broke and Pete’s voice indicated he couldn’t hold it in any longer, “Myka, do you think that’s a good idea?”

She didn’t want them to be, but immediately, Myka’s defenses were up and feeling decidedly unbreakable, “I’m pretty sure that being nice to our best friend’s best friend, whom we will be spending _a lot_ of time with this summer, is, yeah, definitely a good idea.”

“Mykes…” Pete’s tone was incredulous, frustrated that she was actually feigning ignorance about what he was really saying.

“ _Pete…_ ” God, she didn’t want to get into this with him, not after how _good_ the morning had felt, how _easy_ it had felt, how unbelievably _happy_ she was at the prospect of an entire afternoon with H.G., and she kind of hated that Pete was attempting to dampen that mood.

“Oh come on, don’t give me that tone, Mykes. I’m just…I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“There’s nothing to look out for, Pete. We’re friends…sort of, or starting to be friends, and I’m being _nice_.” She knew she was rambling, protesting _far too much_ , but it was easier than admitting that everything she knew Pete would say were things she had told herself countless times over the last few weeks, had repeated to herself this very morning.

“You know that I know that’s bullshit, right? Myka…it’s me. I’ve seen you two, I’ve heard the way you talk about her, and hey, I get it, she is crazy hot and she seems nice enough, but…”

“But _yes_ , it would be temporary and yes, she doesn’t live here, and yes, summer flings are insane, and yes, maybe this is a horrible idea, but Pete, I can take care of myself. I know what I’m doing.”

The scoff Pete gave was one Myka could tell wasn’t in disagreement with the sentiment, but that it was laced with hurt more than anything, hurt that she would imply that he didn’t think she _could_ take care of herself, “Hey…Mykes…come on, I know that, and I sure as hell wasn’t implying that you couldn’t. I just don’t want to see you hurt, and summer flings…”

“Yeah, I know…they tend to lead to all kinds of hurt.” All of the fight left Myka completely, along with all of her excitement about the afternoon.

Pete sighed heavily and Myka could picture the hand he was dragging across his face, in some mixture of frustration and sadness, “God…I’m sorry. Hey…look, it’s a freakin’ beautiful day, perfect day for biking.”

Myka’s sigh mirrored Pete’s; she didn’t know what else to say. She hated fighting with Pete, but somehow this situation…all it did was make her want to _fight_ , though she was starting to wonder if it was simply easier to fight with everyone else about this rather than _deal_ with her own inner struggle with it. Eventually, she found her voice, though it was shallow, a bit lost, her sarcasm wasn’t, “You’re right…just a damn near _perfect_ day.” 

“Myka…” 

“Pete, I have to go.”

“Yeah…yeah, sure, have a good time this afternoon.”

Myka didn’t say anything else, just disconnected the call and once again let her gaze fall and linger across the water, a voice echoing in the back of her head, asking what the hell she had gotten herself into.

**

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Myka had, by sheer force of will, made herself forget her conversation with Pete and the ensuing worries and questions it had garnered. She didn’t want anything to tarnish the prospect of a few more hours to herself with H.G., a few more hours to maybe, possibly, figure out just what was going on with them, if maybe she was crazy and this was just a one-sided thing that she needed to get over. 

She had attempted to convince herself that she would be able to remain impartial, _passive_ even, for the afternoon, to simply enjoy herself and try to forget the nagging ball of questions, nerves, and want that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her stomach whenever H.G. was around. All it took was for H.G. to walk out of her townhouse for that effort to fly completely out the window, not to be remembered for the rest of the afternoon, because how on earth was she supposed to not _want_ when H.G. was standing there in tight, black yoga pants and a light blue tank top that left little to the imagination? It took all of Myka’s energy to not gape at the inches and inches of toned muscle and pale skin that was right before her, and once again she was fighting off flashes from the early morning hours, when that skin had been sliding against her own, when those muscles had been tensed from exertion that was decidedly less innocent than bike riding.

“Well, are we ready to go, darling?” H.G. asked seemingly unaware of Myka’s inner struggle, giving Myka a soft smile and maneuvering her bike out of its lock and down towards the street. 

Myka’s momentary reverie was broken and she was helpless to do anything but follow H.G.’s path. In the back of her mind, some untenable question rose up about H.G.’s new form of _vocabulary_ around her, the casual use of words like “darling” which only made Myka wonder, yet again, if she truly wasn’t imagining any of this and some sort of _something_ was building between them.

They turned their bikes away from Main Street and towards the wandering, shoreline perimeter of the Island, the lake spreading out in dazzling greens and blues to their right, while the houses and quaint B&B’s gave way quickly to forests and cliffs. They kept a fairly slow pace, Myka intentionally keeping things easy in order to give H.G. every opportunity to take in the scenery that was trickling out before them. Pete _had_ been right, it was the perfect day, warm, breezy, vibrant, and Myka thrilled a little to think that it was the prime opportunity for H.G. to see the Island in the absolute, most beautiful light. Inwardly, she wanted to berate herself for _wanting_ H.G. to love it here so much, but her desires were quickly devolving out of her control.

“So, how was your morning of reading?” The question floated between them, accompanied by a curious, genuine smile.

Myka returned the smile happily, “Really nice, actually. Just me, the quiet of the waves, and my book, can’t really complain…although…the lack of company _was_ a bit of a downer.”

“Well, perhaps next time you will be able to convince me to abandon my work and maybe I can join you…” It wasn’t said with any kind of flirtatious lilt, but with a simple honesty, as though it was a perfectly natural suggestion between the two of them.

Myka nodded, “I’d like that, although, if you start stealing my reading spot…”

H.G. gasped playfully, “I would never.” Her voice trickled off into a low chuckle before her gaze returned to watching the water slip by them, admiring the view with a serene smile.

Myka was hesitant to interrupt, knowing full well how sometimes it was better to let people take the Island in for themselves, but she felt it was only polite to ask, “How about you? How’d the recipe writing go?”

H.G. gave a strangled kind of groan, “ _Slow._ Painfully slow. I feel as though I’m wading through unknown territory…”

“Ever think that maybe you’re putting too much pressure on yourself? I mean, I know the Grand is fancy and it has a reputation, but there is also a quaintness to it. People go there, _come here_ , to step back in time a bit, to feel like they’re living in a simpler space. Sometimes, all it takes is a plate of chocolate chip cookies, ya know.”

The smile that overtook H.G.’s face was distant, as though she was immediately wrapped in deep thought, until finally one word slipped out, “Nostalgia…”

Myka couldn’t help how bright her own smile was, “Exactly. Being in the Grand is an intensely visceral experience, it feels like you’re in a whole different world, so maybe it’s your job to give people a taste of something familiar, make them feel like this new place is…somehow _home_.”

“Why does that sound like advice that I should probably heed both professionally _and_ personally?”

Myka shrugged with a tiny smirk, “Maybe because it’s damn good advice.”

H.G. chuckled, “Well, who am I to ignore it then?” She paused briefly, before giving Myka a grateful kind of look, “It is appreciated though. I think…I think you’re very right, at least on the professional front. In DC, people want _flash_ and _flair_. They expect something dramatic to accompany their equally dramatic lives. Maybe here…maybe it’s an opportunity to step back into something simple again. It’s been a long time…too long…since I’ve approached life in the kitchen like that.”

Myka couldn’t help the next question, “And what about on the personal front?”

“That…that is still going to take some time. Trust me, I’ve become more comfortable here, but I’m still adjusting. _Home_ is not a word to be taken lightly, and well…I would be hesitant to use it just yet.”

Myka felt a wave of panic rise up in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She could want a lot of things, but wanting H.G. to feel like the Island was _home_ …that was asking far too much, far too soon, let alone the fact that she might _never_ come to feel like that. She bit the inside of her lip before smiling, “Well, ya know what helps that? Getting to know the place more…which hopefully you will in about…eight miles.”

“ _Eight miles?_ ” H.G. was shocked, completely aghast.

Myka’s laugh echoed off the cliff sides to their left, “Did you seriously not know that?”

“ _No_.”

“Wow…ok, yeah, eight miles ahead. Think you can handle it?” Myka couldn’t stop herself from winking playfully.

“Oh darling,” H.G.’s eyes flashed dangerously, “you should know, I am _always_ up for a challenge.”

They biked along in relative silence before a bend in the road brought them in full view of the shoreline which was completely dominated by dozens and dozens of stone piles. H.G. pulled her bike off to the side of the road, “What on earth?” Before Myka even had a chance to park her own bike, H.G. was wandering amongst the stones, eyes roaming around the vast and various piles.

Myka parked her own bike and wound her way to where H.G. was admiring a particularly impressive stack of stones, piled at least fifteen high, with the tiniest, topmost stone balancing perfectly where it seemed like it should just topple over. Myka kneeled down to admire the lake through a hole that had been built into one of the towers, “I can honestly say I have no idea when this started or who started it, but it’s become a _thing_.”

“They’re beautiful. Each of them completely unique and seemingly defying gravity.” H.G.’s voice was breathless, completely awed at the beauty before her.

Myka grinned, unable to stop herself, “ _Wicked?_ ”

“You know, if you keep understanding my references completely of your own volition, I will begin to question my being the only _nerd_ in this equation.” Despite her teasing, the look on H.G.’s face was contented, pleased even, that Myka had understood what she was saying so implicitly.

“I have my moments, and well… _Wicked_ is a soft spot for me.”

“Something we have in common. It seems that nickname I’ve given you works on several levels then…” H.G. turned her attention back to the piles, leaving her sentence and its implication hanging delicately. She continued to move around the shore, “So, do they have any special meaning or are they built just for fun?”

“Both, I think. Some people, yeah, definitely build them just for kicks, but others…I think it’s meant to be a kind of symbol, an offering almost to the Island, to the lake, to nature. Probably for some it’s a kind of prayer, something solid and sure in the midst of chaos, some kind of improbable structure that stands despite the odds.”

“That’s…that’s remarkably beautiful.”

“Do you want to build one?” The question slipped out before Myka could think about it, and while her subconscious wanted her to jump forward and qualify, say they could _each_ build one, she kept the adjustment to herself. She could do nothing else in the face of the brilliant smile H.G. was giving her.

“I would love to.” Immediately, H.G. was trekking along the shore, picking up stones and weighing them in her palm, rolling them between her hands, trying to find just the right ones. 

Myka chuckled, “With that look on your face, I’m thinking I might be more hindrance than help in this instance.”

H.G. waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder before leaning down and placing a large, flat rock as close to the water as possible without the waves touching it. She didn’t turn around, just called out, “Try and find a few, fairly large, flat ones for the base, I’ll find ones for the top.”

It took them a few minutes to gather up enough stones, but eventually, H.G. was manipulating them all into a medium sized stack, placing them carefully, slowly, hands outstretched at each placement to ensure it wasn’t about to come tumbling down. Myka let out a small laugh, “You’re very diligent about this.”

“My father is an engineer, as is my brother, so…while I did not exactly follow in their footsteps, precision rather runs in my veins.”

“Baking is it’s own kind of building in a way, I would say. Requires as much practice and _precision_.”

There was that grateful, devastating smile again, “Yes, it does. _Thank you for that_ , Myka.”

Myka wanted to ask, to push and find out just why that statement earned so much gratitude, but she held it back, for now. She simply smiled softly, “You’re welcome.”

H.G. held out the smallest stone left in their collection to Myka, “Here…you do the honors.”

Myka grimaced, “Do not hate me if I knock this down.”

“I promise I shall not, however, I am certain that you won’t.”

With near trembling hands, Myka found the right angle to keep the tiny stone balanced atop their pile. She stayed still for a solid five seconds, making sure it would stay put, before standing carefully, admiring their work with a smile, “Not bad, pretty impressive actually.”

H.G. stood next to her, wiping her now chalky palms against her pants, “I quite agree. Now, what exactly have we built this for? Is it symbol, fun, prayer?”

Myka cocked her head in consideration before glancing at H.G., “I think it’s whatever each of us wants it to be.”

H.G. nodded, “Well then, let’s give each other a moment.” 

Myka smiled softly, eyes tracking from their pile to out over the lake, the vast, inescapable blue that never failed to take her breath away. Unexpectedly, she felt H.G.’s hand slip into hers, squeezing with a light pressure. When she looked over at her, H.G. was standing, eyes closed, completely content, though deep in thought. Myka watched her for a few seconds before turning back to the lake, wondering if in that moment they were hoping, _wishing_ for the same thing. Wishing that maybe in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, they were building something sure, something solid, something that wouldn’t fall.

**

“Wow…” H.G.’s breath left her in a shortened gasp, her bike once again abandoned by the side of the road as she craned her head upwards to take in the rock formation above them. She felt Myka come to stand beside her, mirror her movements. She shook her head in awe, “Wolly has sent me pictures, but seeing it in person…”

“There are few things on the Island more beautiful,” Myka had unconsciously lowered her voice, somehow still awed herself by the beauty, the wonder, the incomprehensible vision that was Arch Rock. It was a rock formation nestled in the cliffs and overlooking the water, which had through years and years of wind, snow, rain, and erosion been hollowed out to form a perfect arch. Myka watched as H.G. took in the sight, before nudging their shoulders together, “The view is better from the top if you feel up for maneuvering some questionably safe stairs.”

H.G.’s smile was almost giddy, “Lead the way.”

The stairs were steep, winding back on themselves as they led steeply up from the water to the top of the cliffs. Myka looked back over her shoulder, feeling her own lungs burning for air, “You alright back there?”

“Bloody hell…yes…but _bloody hell_ ,” H.G. practically panted.

“It’ll be worth it. Trust me.”

When they finally reached the top, H.G. paused for a moment, hands on her knees, trying to regain her senses. Myka reached out and gave a soft tug to H.G.’s ponytail, “I probably should have mentioned that it’s much easier to get up here if you just take a carriage tour. We stop here for about fifteen minutes on each tour, _and_ you don’t have to take the stairs.”

“Well, that is _marvelous_ to know now that we’re up here,” H.G. groaned.

Myka chuckled, tugging on H.G.’s elbow, “Come on, the view will be all the better since you worked for it.”

“You, Myka Bering, _wicked one_ , are full of it.”

Myka grinned proudly over her shoulder, “I absolutely am.” Myka led H.G. up the path that led to the walkway which would take you out over the cliffs and right up next to Arch Rock, losing her breath herself when she realized that for possibly the first time in her life there was no one else in the vicinity, “Wow…I’ve never seen it this empty. Usually, this is one place that is _always_ crawling with people.”

“Lucky us, then,” H.G. smiled, stepping carefully out onto the walkway. “My God…look at that view.”

Myka leaned out against the railing, following H.G.’s gaze as it raked in the never-ending stretch of water below them, the way that you could perfectly see the shifts in color as it got deeper. Aquamarine fading into teal until it trickled out into a deep, perfect kind of blue. Myka sighed contentedly, “No matter how many times I come up here, this never gets old. Hands down one of the best views on the Island.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

Myka, entranced by the moment, by the water, by the quiet, _almost_ let slip that the view wasn’t the only gorgeous thing before her, but she caught herself just in time, swallowing down her words until they could return with something less forthright, though no less revealing, “Pap proposed to Gram up here.”

H.G. turned wide, happily dancing eyes to Myka, “Really?”

Myka grinned, “Yeah, he was a bit of a sap that way, but they met here, working summers in college, and this was always where they were happiest. They somehow always knew this is where they would end up and so he told her this was where he wanted to ask her to start their lives together.”

H.G. almost felt foolish for the tears that started to rim her eyes, “Quite the charmer, your grandfather.”

Myka chuckled, “He was, without a doubt. He was sweet and quite smooth when he wanted to be, but he only ever had eyes for Gram. Head over heels their entire lives.”

H.G. was suddenly overcome with Wolly’s voice in her head, telling her that Myka wanted a love like her grandparents had, and in that moment, H.G. couldn’t imagine how anyone on earth could _not_ want that, something that beautiful, that eternal. Her eyes stole over Myka, the way she looked so content watching the water move beneath them, she was breathtaking, the sun glinting off of her curls, the small smile curling at the corners of her lips, and suddenly H.G. found herself wondering….

Before she could fall too far down the rabbit hole of her _wonderings_ , Myka’s voice was breaking into her thoughts, “Did Wolly ever tell you the legend of this place along with the pictures he showed you?”

H.G.’s forehead crinkled in question, “No, he didn’t. There’s a legend?”

“Oh yeah. Every person who has ever given a carriage tour on this Island knows it. It’s a much better explanation than just saying _erosion_ did it.”

H.G. chuckled softly, “Righty-ho then, let’s hear it…”

Myka cleared her throat dramatically, eliciting a small chuckle from H.G. Myka shot her a small glare, “Do not mock my delivery or you won’t get the story.”

H.G. held up her hands in apparent surrender, “By all means, darling, go ahead, you shall find no mocking here.”

“The legend comes from the Native American tribes that used to live on the Island. They saw Arch Rock as a kind of bridge to another world, that it was a place where those who had died could pass through and find eternal rest in the caves around the Island. They believed that it was formed through a combination of love, heartbreak, and tears.” Myka chanced a quick look at H.G., who was staring at her with rapt attention. Myka smiled softly and continued, “Legend has it that a long time ago the Chief of one of the tribes had a daughter, a daughter whose beauty had no rival, and her father hung a great many hopes upon her, mainly the hope that she would marry a strong warrior who would continue to lead the tribe after he was gone. As she got older, her parents began to bring men to meet her in the hopes of helping her find love. She was always polite, somewhat interested, but then one day, everything changed. The Chief noticed that his daughter’s mood had shifted, she was growing more and more despondent, and eventually he became concerned that she had been touched by an evil spirit, that something unnatural had altered her heart. One day, he asked her if she had been put under some kind of spell by an evil spirit. She answered him that she was, in fact, under a spell, but not an evil one. She was under the spell of true love. Her father was of course exultant. His work had been done for him and so he asked who the lucky warrior that had captured his daughter’s heart was. Hesitantly, she told him that she had fallen in love with no man, but that a Sky Spirit had been the one to claim her love. She told him that her Spirit longed to take her home with him, so that they might be together forever. Her father was, of course, furious and told her that it was out of the question, that she would do her duty and marry a man her parents approved of. When it became clear that his daughter would not heed his demands, the Chief took extreme measures. He brought her out here to the cliffs and chained her to the rocks, turning her away from the shore and towards the trees where she could not see the sky, and thus could never see her love again. It was here she stayed, pouring out tears for her broken heart, for the Sky Spirit she loved, but could never be with. Eventually, she cried so long and so hard that they began to eat away at the rock, until an archway formed. It was through this archway that her love was able to come down to earth, unchain her, and take her away with him to live in love amongst the stars, where they could always be together. They talked of destroying the arch for fear of someone coming after them, but they decided to leave it as a reminder to all who saw it that true love had a way of overcoming all obstacles.”

Myka’s words died out on an echo, a light breeze carrying them off and over the water. She had told the story hundreds of times, but never had she told it quite like this, never had it left her with her throat thick with emotion, her eyes pricking with tears, an unknowable weight hanging around her shoulders. When she looked at H.G., she saw her own response mirrored in H.G.’s eyes. Before she knew what she was doing, she was talking again, saying things she had never shared with anyone else, things Gram had only shared with her, “Apparently, when he proposed Pap told Gram that if what she wanted was for him to carry her to the stars, he would try as hard as he could if that’s what it took to love her forever.”

A tear slipped down H.G.’s cheek which she didn’t bother to wipe away, “God…I’m not sure I can even imagine a love like that…”

Myka swallowed tightly, feeling that bubble of emotion in her throat fighting to rise up, “It was an incredible thing to witness, though…it was hard to not give one unreasonable expectations of love.”

“Is it unreasonable though? To want a love that deep, that eternal?” H.G. couldn’t even believe she had let the question slip out of her mouth.

Myka gave her a soft smile, though it held a mystery to it that H.G. couldn’t read, “No…I’m not sure that it is.”

There was one single moment, it lasted for barely a second, but it was enough time to make Myka wonder if she should just _get on with it_. If she should just ignore every warning bell going off in her head, if she should just do exactly what she wanted regardless of consequences and just _kiss her_ , but in the end, she couldn’t. Part of it was doubt, doubt that H.G. wasn’t right there with her. Part of it was fear, fear of what would happen if H.G. _was_ right there with her. The rest? The rest Myka couldn’t name, other than knowing that it felt an awful lot like freefalling and wishing you had never jumped. 

In the end, Myka had stood up from where she had been leaning against the railing and pulled her phone out from where she had tucked it into her basketball shorts. She gave H.G. a teasing grin, wiggling her phone, “It is customary, damn near tradition, that one must take a photo at the top of Arch Rock.”

H.G. rolled her eyes, gesturing a hand down her body, “I am sweaty and in no way photo ready.”

Myka smirked, “Doesn’t matter. _Tradition_.” Once again, Myka fought back the urge to just tell her she looked gorgeous and be done with it.

H.G. huffed, “Fine, but on one condition. You get in here with me.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “ _Fine_. Nerdy _and_ stubborn, I have to remember that.”

“It would serve you well to do just that.”

If forced, Myka _would_ admit that they both were a little sweaty, a little worse for wear after their trek up the stairs and the several miles of biking already behind them, but what she wouldn’t say was that she didn’t care in the slightest. The picture that now existed on both of their phones was, of all the photos Myka had ever taken atop Arch Rock in her life, her absolute favorite.

**

“Are you _sure_ you want to do this?” Myka asked skeptically.

H.G. rolled her eyes, “It would seem that this tour wasn’t quite a _tour_ if I didn’t actually put my feet in the water at some point.”

“There’s a reason you haven’t put your feet in the water yet. It’s May. Up here, that’s still like _March_ to the lakes. That water is going to be fucking freezing. What if I promise you that I will bring you back out when it’s warmer?”

“What did you _just_ learn about me that you have apparently forgotten?”

“ _Stubborn_ , right.”

H.G.’s satisfied smirk gleamed in the sunlight, “Precisely. Therefore, I will hold you to that promise of coming back out, even while I insist on doing this now.”

“Ok,” Myka sighed roughly, toeing off her tennis shoes, “feet in the water it is.”

“I never said you had to do it with me. You are perfectly free to remain where you are, blissfully dry.”

“No, no, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it together. Nothing bonds you quite like frostbite, I suppose.”

“Wicked _and_ dramatic. _I_ will have to remember _that_.”

Myka smirked, “Touche, nerd. Touche.”

Both of their shoes were tossed further up the beach with their socks settled in them. Suddenly, seemingly nervous, whether because of the temperature or the uneven, rocky terrain of the beach, H.G. reached out and gripped Myka’s wrist as they stepped slowly into the waves. The second the water hit their toes, H.G. was powerless to keep a scream from escaping her throat, “Holy hell!”

Myka laughed soundly, despite her own visceral reaction to the cold, “I told you. _Freezing_.”

They took a few more careful steps, H.G.’s hand not leaving Myka’s wrist, until they were sufficiently up to their ankles. Eventually, H.G.’s grimace settled into a smile, “Ok…now it’s better.”

“That’s generally called numbness.”

H.G. leveled Myka with an incredulous glare, “Do not ruin the moment with your snark.”

Myka grinned, turning back towards the lake, “Sorry, moment appreciation commencing.”

After a few quiet moments, H.G. lightly squeezed Myka’s wrist, “Thank you for doing this with me.”

Myka smiled warmly, “You’re welcome, though my feet currently hate you.”

H.G. rolled her eyes, “I didn’t mean _this_ precisely, I meant showing me around. Spending your day off like this…I know you don’t get many.”

Myka shifted her wrist so that she could interlace her fingers with H.G.’s for a brief moment, returning H.G.’s appreciative squeeze before releasing their hands and placing her own firmly in her back pockets, uncertain what exactly she was supposed to do with this sudden, exceedingly comfortable, but seemingly out of nowhere, casual intimacy. She gave H.G. a small smile before turning her gaze to the horizon, almost as if it was that she was speaking to, not to H.G., “I was happy to do it. Trust me, there are few better ways to spend a day off for me than being out appreciating this place. Getting to show it to someone else is a lovely bonus.”

H.G. gave Myka a scrutinizing look, watched the way that her eyes squinted in the late afternoon sun, the way that an overwhelming sense of _peace_ , which H.G. wasn’t sure she’d ever quite seen before, exuded from Myka’s entire being. A stray thought scattered through her brain, one she had been aware of, acutely, from the moment she had met Myka, but one that she had not quite _felt_ as intensely as she did right in this moment, Myka was breathtaking in every sense of that overly used, way too clichéd term. H.G. honestly felt like if she looked at her too long she could lose her breath, or at least _forget_ that she needed to breathe, because Myka Bering was a woman that made you think it was logical to drown in her mere presence. 

She wasn’t used to this, was quite sure she’d never had these kinds of thoughts before. She’d been with people, _plenty_ of people, even thought she might have loved some, but this…this was something else entirely and it left her knees shaking in a way that had nothing to do with the cold water lapping at her shins. She caught the words that were dangling tantalizingly on the tip of her tongue, words about beauty and life and _love_ and so many things that she didn’t need to say, so instead she focused on Myka’s gaze, on the day they had had and spoke out with a much more innocent statement than the ones going through her head, though it came out more as a question, “You really love it here, don’t you?”

Myka’s eyes never left the horizon, but she felt her cheeks pull in an even wider smile, felt her shoulders ease at the question, the question that was one of the easiest she’d ever had to answer, “I do. It’s home, and nowhere else that I have ever even considered calling home feels like this. Colorado, Ann Arbor, which is where I went to school by the way, I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that…” Myka shook her head quickly, feeling her words getting pulled into all kinds of different directions, and fought to get them back, “Anyway, I feel like I found myself here, like I could be the person I was meant to be here. Nowhere else has ever felt like that.”

H.G. felt a deep sigh building in her chest and let it out before she could control it, her voice following it in a saddened, wistful kind of tone, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way…anywhere, honestly.”

Myka eyed H.G. in a sidelong glance, saw that she too was turning her words to the horizon and Myka wasn’t going to force the issue, force the eye contact, but simply decided to take the moment for what it was. She felt like was hearing something that few, if any, had ever heard and she wasn’t going to chase it away by being too forward, so she returned her eyes to the water and simply asked, “What about D.C.? Aren’t you happy there?”

An inscrutable, almost harsh bark of a laugh escaped H.G.’s throat, “That…that is a rather complicated question at the moment. Suffice it to say, _happy_ seems entirely different from what you just described, Myka. One can be happy, in their own way anywhere, but that doesn’t mean that they are content, that they are truly _at home_.”

A small bubble of hope, that also felt a lot like panic, crept into Myka’s chest, “All that says to me is that you haven’t found the right place…yet. It certainly doesn’t mean that it isn’t out there.”

“No…” H.G. sighed, eyes sweeping over the scene before her, mind drifting back across the last several hours, a pang of worry rippling along her bloodstream, “I suppose it doesn’t.”

**

For as comfortable, for as easy as the entire afternoon had been, Myka wasn’t sure she had ever experienced anything as awkward as dropping H.G. off at her house at the end of the day. Despite H.G.’s protestations that Myka was essentially biking past her own house in order to accompany her and thus forcing herself to have to backtrack, Myka had been insistent, “If I leave, I won’t have officially biked the whole Island, and that’s like falling apart at the finish line.”

H.G. had rolled her eyes in exasperation, “As if you haven’t biked this island _hundreds_ of times before. I’d hardly call that failing.”

“Ah, but what kind of tour guide would I be if I didn’t finish the ride with you?”

H.G. had simply cocked her head in playful consideration, but didn’t say another word of protest, simply continued biking. So it was that Myka found herself standing uncertainly on H.G.’s porch, suddenly fidgeting, unsure what to do with her hands or where precisely to look, as H.G. stood before her toying with her keys as if she didn’t really want to use them at all but rather throw them away and forget they existed. After an afternoon of never seeming to run out of words, Myka didn’t know what to say, what to do, because it _felt_ like _something_ should happen, but every time she thought about stepping forward, it was like warning bells were going off in her head convincing her that kissing H.G., starting this, whatever this was, would be a huge mistake that would just end in one, or both, of them getting hurt. 

It gave her some sense of comfort realizing that H.G. seemed just as nervous as she was, H.G.’s hesitance to actually _go inside_ her townhouse and end the afternoon was practically screaming that she had as little idea of what to do in this precise situation as Myka did.

Finally, with an effort that Myka hadn’t realized she was capable of, she took a step _backwards_ , gesturing towards H.G.’s door, “I should probably let you get inside, and I should probably get home…Trailer...”

Something that looked an awful lot like disappointment raced across H.G.’s face, but it was quickly gone in a dash of what seemed to be false composure, “Right, of course. I don’t…don’t let me keep you. I’m sorry it’s so late…”

“No, no, you’re fine, but he does get a bit…cranky if I don’t spend _some_ time with him.”

“Well,” H.G.’s smile was devastating in all the ways that made Myka feel like she was melting, “who am I to deny you his company, or him yours?”

Myka chuckled, “He’ll appreciate your consideration.”

“I’m sure.” There was a small pause, before H.G. stepped forward, back into Myka’s space, grasping Myka’s hand with a small squeeze, “Thank you for today, Myka. I had a truly wonderful time.”

Myka kicked herself for the small blush she felt creeping into her cheeks, but it didn’t keep her from returning the small pressure H.G. was pushing into her hand, despite the flashes that had returned unbidden to her mind of those hands applying pressure in wildly different situations. She cleared her throat in a way she hoped was subtle, but knew didn’t even come close, “You’re welcome. It was fun…getting to see everything through someone else’s eyes.”

H.G.’s smile retreated into something softer, a bit more uncertain, though there was a bit of bravado at its edges, “Next time I shall let you choose the activity.”

A small thrill of pleasure, of anticipation blossomed in Myka’s stomach, but she reigned it in, kept it in check enough to simply give H.G. a bright smile, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Have a lovely rest of the day, Myka. Hopefully I’ll see you later this week, assuming we can both escape work at some point.”

Myka grinned with a playful roll of her eyes, “Yeah…hopefully.” She forced her feet to move, to walk down the steps and back to her bike, but she couldn’t quite help herself once she was back on her bike from shooting one more glance, one more wave, one more smile over her shoulder, inwardly thrilled that H.G. showed no signs of going inside until Myka was long out of view.

**

It was creeping towards late, and Myka was seriously considering the intelligence of calling it a day without an ounce of guilt that it still _was_ a bit early, because she was in a word…exhausted. As night had slowly fallen, the weight of the day had seemed to settle around her shoulders, leaving her feeling heavy, wilting under the pressure of _everything_. Her broken sleep of the night before, the subsequent anxieties as to the cause of that broken sleep, the physical exertion of biking eight miles even when she was fairly used to the route, all of that coupled with the overwhelming emotional burden of just what today meant had left her shaken, and somehow more uncertain than she had been when the day started. 

The torn and shattered fragments of her thoughts cascaded around her feet as she once again paced the length of the living room, Trailer idly watching her movements with an aura of concern from his perch on the couch. She didn’t want to do this, knew instinctively that she shouldn’t do this, but she was wondering if she even had a choice anymore. Something was happening, moving, swirling around her and H.G., drawing them ever closer together in some sort of dance, one Myka was happy to do, though she couldn’t stop herself from wondering, worrying, what would happen when the music stopped.

The quiet solitude of her reverie was obliterated by a focused rap on her door, and for one shining, unconscious moment, her stomach flipped and her hands tingled because maybe…

Maybe she wasn’t the only one being turned upside down and tangled into knots by all these unspoken _things_. Maybe she wasn’t the only one wishing, for one of the first times in her life, that she wasn’t alone. Maybe she wasn’t the only one wearing tracks in the living room floor out of sheer, unadulterated want. Maybe..

All those maybes flew out the window once she opened the door to be faced with…Pete. She tried to school her disappointment, pretend like she wasn’t desperately hoping it was someone else on the other side of the door. Her efforts apparently failed spectacularly because Pete’s contrite smile immediately fell into a grimace, “Still pissed at me, huh?”

It took a moment for Myka to register what he was saying, to put together the pieces of what he his words implied, what he was referencing. It took infinitely longer than it should have for Myka to finally _get_ that, of course, Pete thought that her look of disappointment had everything to do with their fight earlier, that he was completely ignorant of the fact that deep down she was hoping that this knock on her door would be of a far less innocent and much more complicated nature. Finally grasping the straws of what was actually happening around her, Myka pulled the door fully open, stepping back to let Pete in with a small shake of her head, “I’m not pissed, I just…wasn’t expecting you.”

“But you were expecting someone else?” Myka could tell Pete was fighting the urge to waggle his eyebrows, to put a leering lilt to his voice, but he kept it light, even, as non-emotive as she knew he could muster.

Myka palmed the back of her neck, swiping across it with a small drag of her nails, “No, no I wasn’t…”

“So maybe _hoping_ for someone else…” Now, a hint of concern was present, a hint of exasperation even, as Pete stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, fingers reaching out to idly scratch behind Trailer’s ears, fidgeting from foot to foot, eyes never quite meeting Myka’s across the room where she still stood next to the open door.

Myka sighed heavily. They never did this well. Bickering. Fighting. Getting under each other’s skin. They cared about each other far too much, knew too much about each other for it to ever be simple. Their history ran too deep and so whenever something happened between them, it always came with a certain _weight_ , because it was _them_. Their friendship had been a harbor amongst far too many storms for each of them, so when their relationship _became_ the storm, it left them both stumbling on unsteady feet to figure out how to fix things. 

Idly, Myka shut the door, “Pete…I don’t know what you want me to say…”

“Nothing,” Pete held out a hand to stall Myka’s words, “Nothing, Mykes. You don’t have to say anything. I just came…I came because I wanted to apologize.” He held up the two bottles that were clinking together in his hand, “Beer for you, cream soda for me.”

Myka felt a small smile tug at her lips, because for as much as they sucked at the fighting, Pete somehow always knew the right gesture to get them to start moving past it. She accepted the proffered beer, twisting the cap open easily and taking a sip, eyeing Pete carefully over the bottle, “You don’t need to apologize, Pete. I snapped at you, and I shouldn’t have…I’m just so… _fucking confused_.” She slumped onto the couch, drawing an annoyed grunt from Trailer who didn’t appreciate the disturbance.

Pete sank into one of Myka’s armchairs, something between a grimace and a conciliatory smile on his face, “You can talk to me about it. I know I kind of made it seem like you couldn’t earlier, but you can, Mykes. If you want.”

“I’m not even sure there’s anything to talk about,” Myka picked idly at the label on her bottle, suddenly unable to look Pete in the eye.

“You clearly like her, I mean…I know you, and it’s kind of obvious…”

“I shouldn’t though. I should be avoiding this like the goddamn plague and yet I can’t. If anything I keep running _towards_ it, regardless of how stupid it is.”

“It doesn’t really seem like you’re running alone though…the way she looks at you, Mykes…” Pete cleared his throat roughly, and Myka wondered if he was actually uncomfortable, which rarely happened with Pete. “Those looks could set someone on fire.”

Myka chuckled but it sounded far off in her ears, like it was coming from someone else’s throat, “I fear I’m dancing pretty close to those flames, Pete.”

“You don’t exactly sound like you wish you were doing anything _but_ that.”

“I know, and at some point I will realize that I’ve been a fucking idiot because of it. You’re right. I’m playing with fire, and that inevitably means I’m going to get burned, and Jesus…I thought I was done with all of this, or at least that I had learned my goddamn lesson.”

“Summer love has a way of creeping up on us here, you know that…”

“I know but I said I would never do that again, Pete!” The words burst out of Myka’s chest before she could control them. She took a deep breath, another swallow of beer, willing her words to come calmer, “I just…I’m going to get hurt, I know it and I can’t seem to convince myself to avoid it.”

Pete ran two fingers up and down his forehead, the pressure enough to wrinkle and bunch his skin up beneath the force, “Why are you so certain about that? The getting hurt?”

Myka rolled her eyes, “Because her life isn’t here. We all know how long it took Wolly to get her up here. It’s not like one summer spent in my company is going to magically change all of that. Nothing that happens over the next few months is going to stop her getting back on a ferry in October and most likely never looking back.”

“Crazier things have happened. Crazier things have worked out…”

“Try to sound a bit more convincing about that, Lattimer. We both know how this story goes. Summer flings rarely get their happy endings.”

Pete shrugged, but it was half-hearted, “There are exceptions to every rule.”

Myka sighed, “Pete, I appreciate that you’re trying to put a positive spin on this all in the name of being supportive, but we both know that you think this is a terrible idea, that you want nothing more than to _convince me_ that this is a terrible idea.”

Pete scratched a hand through his hair, “I don’t know what you want me to say, Mykes. You know everything I could possibly say. I mean…if this was just about ya know…gettin’ your groove on or whatever…” 

“God…Pete…don’t,” Myka groaned loudly.

“I’m serious, Mykes. If this as a sex thing, I’d get it, because life here is sometimes…dull and lonely and hey, hey, hey, ya gotta do what ya gotta do, but…that doesn’t seem to be what this is about. You seem like..you seem like you could be falling for her and that’s a whole world of dangerous, because I know you and I know you don’t take that lightly.”

“As much as I hate, _abhor_ it in fact, I wish I could just say it was about sex, that it could be just about that, and be done with the entire damn thing, but it’s not…you’re very, very right on that.”

“Hey-o! Can I get that on tape, for the record? Note the date and time when Myka Bering said that I, one, Pete Lattimer was right?”

It was the perfect amount of levity for the moment, enough to release some of the pressure that had filled the room, which made Myka feel like there was cotton in her ears, like there was a weight pushing and pushing on her chest daring her to keep trying to breathe. In the face of Pete’s smile, his newfound, teasing tone, she felt that pressure ease, the fingers that had been gripping around her ribs starting to release a bit, allowing her to find her breath, even dare to laugh. She rolled her head back against the couch cushions, “I am fresh out of tape recorders, but I promise you can remind me of this moment whenever you like.”

Pete shot a finger gun towards Myka with a wink, “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Silence descended around them, neither certain what to say in the midst of _everything_. Deep down, Myka _wished_ she could really talk to Pete about this. She wished she could tell him about how standing up at Arch Rock with H.G., telling her about her grandparents had made Myka feel breathless and grounded at the same time, like she had found something she hadn’t even realized she was searching for until it was standing right in front of her. She wished she could explain how it felt to have H.G. grasp her hand with such casual surety, how it had made her wonder if spontaneous combustion was actually a real thing. Yet, she knew, as much as Pete was offering up the chance for that conversation, they couldn’t have it, because she knew what he would say. He would say that she needed to forget this because of all the hurt and all the pain that would come, and she knew what she would say; that she suddenly didn’t give a damn about the hurt or the pain if it meant getting to have even these few months with H.G. She knew she couldn’t tell Pete just how far in she already felt, because then…then she would have to hear the words that she refused to let her brain process on its own, that this would end up being a colossal, painful mistake.

Pete cleared his throat and broke Myka away from her thoughts. When she finally looked at him, he was leaning forward, elbows against his knees, his eyes shining with the certainty that Myka knew only came with Pete Lattimer on the brink of a world of honesty. He sighed softly, “Look, Myka…I’m…I’m not going to tell you that I think this is a great idea, because you’re right…I can’t say that I see H.G. as being the chuck-all and move up here type. I can’t say that I don’t think this is going to end up getting you hurt. However, if you feel about her the way it seems like you do, then I’m not going to be the one to tell you to run from that, because weird shit happens on this Island. I was convinced I was going to be that bachelor weirdo who lived down the road from his mom his whole life, and now…well, now I _still_ live down the road from my mom, but I’m doing that with someone I love like crazy, who is nuts and wild and perfect, and we found each other because summers here are insanely unpredictable. So, in the end, who am I to say that this won’t go anywhere? Maybe…you never know…sometimes people can surprise you.”

“Yeah…” Myka sighed, draining down the rest of her beer, images from the afternoon, from the early morning hours, playing behind her eyelids, leaving blistering tendrils of heat across her skin, “you never know.”

**

Myka’s body was slowly becoming acclimated to its return to summer hours, every day the sun seemed a little less glaringly bright, her alarm a little less jarring. She could feel her muscles easing into the ebb and flow of summer, prodding her forward into a schedule, a routine that she didn’t entirely mind. It always surprised her that it only took a few days for her to hit that stride. She was always one of the first up and at the stables, usually there with the sun, and she knew she was one of the few that graced the Island with their presence this early in the morning. 

This particular morning though, Myka learned her lesson in assuming that no one else was up with her as she stepped out onto her porch, refreshed from a thankfully dreamless night of sleep, only to almost step directly on another box from the Grand Hotel. She knelt down, placing her coffee on the porch, and flipped open the top, an involuntary smile pulling at all of her cheek muscles. A soft puff of warmth met her palms, coming up from the apparently _extremely fresh_ plate of what appeared to be blueberry scones in the box. On the inside of the lid was another post-it note:

_Our conversation about nostalgia inspired me…though by the end of the day I will regret the early wake up. ~H  
P.S. These are typically considered a more acceptable breakfast than cookies… _

Myka chuckled softly, shaking her head and wondering how long it would take for her to become wildly addicted to…sugar…this summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the full length Legend of Arch Rock online if you feel up for reading the non-condensed version. There are also some pics up on my tumblr (granger4013) of Arch Rock and some of the Mackinac beaches if you're curious.
> 
> Thank you all so much for continuing to read along with this wild Island adventure :-)


	5. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One party thrown by the Island's resident college kids and everything gets thrown into a world of complication.
> 
> There are feelings...text messages...more sugar-containing boxes...and maybe just a few...interludes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that this is late in posting. I could blame it on starting a new job and life being crazy, but it really was just that I was insanely late in getting this to my beta, and then taking my sweet time to edit after she read through it. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy sinking further into the summer...as the weather heats up...life on the Island tends to do the same :-)
> 
> Always...huge thanks to @MuddyPuppy for the beta and for getting my head thinking and thinking and thinking about the various ways to smoosh these two's faces together ;-)

“Remind me why we’re doing this?” Steve grumbled as their small group wandered down the hill from Harrisonville, turning their steps towards the stretch of road which led to most of the college intern housing.

Pete slung an arm around Steve’s shoulder, squeezing it playfully, “Because it’s Friday night, Steve-O and therefore, it is time to _party_.”

Steve hung his head dejectedly, “I thought we had all agreed we were too damn old for college kids’ parties?”

“We had…” Myka’s voice echoed from where she was a few steps behind all of them, also wondering how the hell they had all gotten themselves into this. Those thoughts were easier to focus on than the ridiculously attractive outfit H.G. had on, a tight white button-up accented by a vest and jeans which left little to the imagination. 

As if sensing her thoughts, her _focus_ , H.G. turned from where she was walking with Wolly and shot Myka a quick wink, “Is that why you’re sulking back there? A small sign of protest?”

Myka blushed, thankful that the darkness made it less apparent, “ _Yes_ , I am obviously protesting, nerd.”

“If you’re not, then get up here and stop dawdling.” H.G.’s tone was playful, toying, leaving Myka wondering if she shouldn’t just turn around and actually protest this party because she was feeling decidedly as though she might not survive it.

Kelly hung back and slipped an arm around Myka’s waist, tugging her forward, “Come on, live a little…who knows what might happen.” 

Myka ignored Kelly’s wink and quirk of her eyebrows and simply sighed, “What will happen is we will be surrounded by drunk college kids with zero control of their hormones.”

“Ah to be young and stupid,” Wolly mused.

“Come on,” Pete exclaimed, “you all are getting _old_ and _boring_ , which is probably why Claudia insisted that we come out tonight. She’s doing her part to help us not age prematurely, and I for one am up for a party.”

Kelly leaned up and kissed Pete on the cheek, “That’s my man. At least _some of us_ will have fun tonight.”

“Oh, of that I’m sure there can be little doubt.” It was subtle, almost a whisper, and Myka wasn’t sure if anyone else except her heard it, but to her ears, H.G. might as well have been _screaming_ , and Myka found herself wondering just how she was going to be impacted by H.G.’s intentions for _fun_.

**

The party was exactly as Myka had expected: loud, hot, and occupied by more college students than she was sure were actually safe to be in such close proximity to each other. Despite that though, none of them could help being pulled into the rhythm of the night. Their immediate and joyful reception by Claudia, Todd, and Fargo went a long way to making the night seem more tolerable, the alcohol that was almost immediately ingested by all of them except Pete, didn’t hurt either. 

The music pulsed into the apartment building where most people were congregated from where a DJ was set up in the quad which sat in the middle of the college intern housing. Myka was always flummoxed by just how many kids ended up being on the Island for the summer, usually too caught up in the thought that it was just _her kids_ , to realize that every hotel, every shop, needed workers and they turned out in the hundreds. 

As the night wore on and as she took in a few more drinks, Myka had to begrudgingly admit that she was enjoying herself, even though she knew her voice would be hoarse in the morning from shouting over the music and that she would probably be nursing a decent hangover, but she was quickly finding she didn’t care. Myka’s enjoyment of the night was also helped by the fact that between the crowds and the alcohol, H.G. had practically been plastered to her side most of the night, occasionally dropping a vague whisper of commentary into her ear or letting her fingers dance down the arm of Myka’s leather jacket to get her attention. Myka knew that if she drank more, she would quickly become unable to quite control herself, and yet…she also couldn’t help but let the feeling of the night sink into her veins a bit, the ever-present pulse of summer starting to beat within her a bit harder. Slowly, she let herself breathe in the potential of it all and breathe out all of her worries…if only for one night.

Later in the night, Pete and Claudia somehow stumbled into a loud, rather playfully heated disagreement about what Myka could only guess was some kind of video game, but she hadn’t been fully paying attention. If she was being honest she had been too distracted by H.G. who had, once again, found herself nestled to Myka’s hip despite being deep in conversation with Wolly. Myka sucked in a deep breath, feeling a bit of reality creeping into her consciousness and realizing that now might be the perfect time to gain some distance. She announced to no one in particular, “I’m going to go grab another drink.”

H.G. had only vaguely heard Myka’s departure, caught up in her conversation with Wolly, but she absolutely was incapable of missing Kelly’s very loud, very definitive declaration of, “Oh sweet Jesus, hide the tequila,” only moments after Myka had departed their group.

H.G. felt Pete shift next to her, followed by his aghast groan of, “Oh shit.”

“I didn’t even think she was coming this summer,” Wolly stated with surprise.

“Last I’d heard she wasn’t and trust me, I was certain that was a good thing,” Pete bit out.

H.G turned quickly towards the other side of the room where the rest of the group had narrowed their focus but she had no idea what the problem seemed to be. From behind her she heard Steve mutter, “There’s no way to stop this from happening is there?”

“Nope, Jinxsy, cue embarrassing disaster in three…two…one…” Claudia chuckled softly.

H.G. turned to Wolly, confusion written across her face, “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

Wolly pointed a finger across the crowd towards where a woman was steadily, determinedly tracking her way towards Myka. A woman whom H.G. hated to admit was gorgeous, her black hair flowing down her back, confidence exuding from her every cell. Wolly’s voice trickled into her ear as if from far away, “That would be Abigail.”

H.G.’s brow furrowed for a moment, before she _remembered_ …that first night…that first party…Myka asking her to forget what she’d heard. She shot a glance towards Wolly, “Abigail…as in the tequila shots Abigail?”

Wolly chuckled, though he had enough presence of mind to give H.G. a sympathetic look, “The very same.”

“Well,” Kelly grinned, “who knows, maybe Myka _will_ enjoy herself tonight.”

“Kel…” Pete’s voice was strained.

“Oh come on,” Kelly laughed, “that woman is _fine_ and Myka could use a little _fine_ in her life.”

Something white, hot, and pulsing seeped into H.G.’s stomach, spreading out to the tips of her fingers and filling her with an urge to do whatever she could to have this woman simply vanish right on the spot. She couldn’t help but focus on the way she saw Abigail reach a hand out to grip around Myka’s forearm, the shock written across Myka’s face, the look Myka shot over Abigail’s shoulder towards all of them which H.G. was certain was a declaration that Myka wanted to be anywhere but where she was right at that moment. 

She was so caught up in what was happening that she almost missed Pete taking a few steps forward, saying pointedly to Kelly, “Hot or not, you know Myka doesn’t want to see her…”

H.G. didn’t know what came over her but suddenly she stepped forward, almost involuntarily, and rested a hand on Pete’s shoulder giving him a determined look, “Why don’t you let me handle this, Pete?”

Pete’s eyebrows rose in a mixture of what appeared to be concern, relief, and some kind of resignation before he sighed and stepped back into their small circle, muttering, “Yeah…sure, H.G., it’s all yours.”

**

Myka knew Abigail was saying something, could see her lips moving, could feel her fingers still very much present against her forearm, but the only thing Myka could remotely pay attention to was H.G. winding her way through the crowd with a look of determination on her face so fierce that Myka was suddenly _nervous_ that she seemed to be making her way towards them. She tried to get some sort of read on the situation that she was apparently coming very close to being thrown into, but all she could do was flounder spectacularly in the face of it. She schooled her thoughts, her features in a vain effort to refocus on Abigail. Abigail who was standing right in front of her, looking, much to Myka’s chagrin, as fantastic as she had a year ago. Abigail who was acting as though it wasn’t a big deal for them to be with each other, pretending as though she wasn’t completely aware of how Myka had felt last summer in the immediate aftermath of Abigail bailing out of bed and acting as though what had just happened wasn’t a big deal, wasn’t much of _anything_ really. 

Myka was starting to drown in those memories, feeling horror resurge into her mind, embarrassment already crawling through her stomach, its thick, loathsome tendrils wending their way around her lungs and risking her ability to breathe. She was so trapped in the downward spiral that nothing Abigail was saying was registering, nothing around them was hitting her senses at all until she felt an arm snake around her waist, fingers digging deliciously into her hip with an assured squeeze, her hair dancing against her ear as a breath blew threw it allowing enough space for lips to press lightly against the skin below her jaw, a voice, a _rasp_ trickling into her awareness, “There you are darling, I was fairly certain we’d all lost you.”

A shiver of panic mingled with sheer delight, almost _glee_ raced across Myka’s skin as she turned what she hoped was a completely normal, completely assured look at H.G., who was returning her gaze with a look that clearly was begging her to just _go along with it_. Myka flashed H.G. a grateful smile, settling comfortably, _easily_ , almost _too easily_ in Myka’s mind, into H.G.’s hold, holding up the bottle dangling between her fingers, “Just needed a drink is all.”

“You left me alone with Pete…I cannot be held responsible for any conversation that has transpired in your absence.” H.G. shot her a quick wink before turning, almost as if she hadn’t realized there was anyone else around, to Abigail, her free hand coming up to palm her forehead in feigned embarrassment, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I completely interrupted you.” She held a hand out to Abigail, all smooth politeness, though Myka could detect the icy undertone, the rigidity that was present in H.G.’s movements, “I’m H.G.”

Myka didn’t miss one second of Abigail’s gaze as it raced between them with a mix of shock and annoyance. As Abigail’s eyes wandered, Myka was suddenly remembering Abigail’s complete lack of subtlety as her gaze dropped to rake up and down H.G., her eyebrows shooting up as though she was almost _impressed_ that this woman was the one who was at Myka’s side. If Myka was being honest, had she been the one in Abigail’s shoes, she probably would have had the same reaction. Eventually, Abigail’s _observation_ ceased and she grasped H.G.’s hand lightly and quickly, “Abigail, I’m a…friend of Myka’s from last summer. And you are clearly…Myka’s…”

Light, playful laughter trickled into Myka’s ears as H.G. slipped another kiss to her temple, “Yes, well…”

Suddenly realizing that she needed to help H.G. with this deception, Myka looped an arm across her waist to play with the fingers H.G. had draped against her hip, giving her a playfully endeared look, “Careful how you finish that sentence or that title might change…or you at least might find yourself going home alone.”

H.G. raised an eyebrow at Myka, seemingly taken aback at Myka’s free willingness to follow her down this rabbit hole. She glanced sideways at Abigail, coy smile on her lips, “Girlfriend. I’m Myka’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I gathered that.” It came out on a laugh, a slow drift of a breath, but Myka could hear the frustration, the irritation that lingered beneath it. Part of her wanted to feel bad that they were messing with Abigail in such an obvious way, yet that part couldn’t get a word in edgewise against the pounding, petty exhilaration in Myka’s brain that was shouting that Abigail deserved it after she had the audacity to approach her with such a blatant agenda after everything that had happened last summer.

As if sensing the war going on in Myka’s mind, H.G.’s fingers flexed once again around her hip, giving Abigail a shy kind of look, “If you don’t mind terribly, could I steal her for a second?” Her eyes returned to Myka’s twinkling with subterfuge and desire, “I feel like dancing.”

Abigail clearing her throat grated roughly against both of their ears, but neither of them could quite manage to return their full attention to her, though Myka could feel fingers against her elbow once more as Abigail said, “Yeah, sure, don’t let me keep you. It was…it was good to see you, Myka.”

H.G.’s hand filtered from Myka’s hip to reach in between them and twine with Myka’s, tugging a bit against it to encourage Myka to start moving towards the back of the house and out to the quad where emboldened by the mood and a great deal of alcohol, many were dancing to the DJ’s offerings. 

Something loud with a heavy thud of bass undertones was thrumming through the speakers as H.G. led Myka to the fringes of the crowd, eventually stopping and pulling her in by the hips and willing Myka to continue to run with whatever they had just started and _dance_. 

Carefully, suddenly unsure if they were going to be leaving _any_ boundaries uncrossed tonight, Myka let her arms come up to slip around H.G.’s neck, something that was only possible without being awkward because of the fact that H.G. was wearing heeled boots that left her almost an inch taller than Myka, whose shoes were woefully flat. H.G. seemed to know just by watching her, by _feeling_ the way she was moving, that Myka was trying to find her bearings and so she didn’t push, didn’t say anything, just kept them swaying to the beat, not demanding more of their movements beyond keeping them occupied. 

Eventually, emboldened by the comfort of how simple it felt to be _like this_ with H.G., Myka inched a bit closer to her, drawing their bodies almost flush against each other, giving her a crooked, unfiltered, unchecked smile, “Thank you for that…”

H.G. gave a small kind of shrug, feeling Myka’s arms lift and fall with her movements, “It was rather apparent that you were in need of an out, Pete wanted to do it, but I figured…well…I figured maybe Abigail needed a little…jolt, shall we say? The others were quite concerned at her presence…”

“Yeah, well, she wasn’t supposed to be here this summer.” Myka wished she didn’t sound so petulant, so shaken, but she couldn’t help but admit that seeing Abigail, knowing she would have to put up with her being around this summer was a decidedly maddening prospect.

“I gathered as much from what everyone said. I’m sorry…”

Myka shook her head vigorously, “Hey, nothing for you to be sorry for, I mean it’s fine, it’s not a big deal, at all…”

“Which is clearly why you’re rambling and why you looked like you were ready to put a Myka shaped hole in the door when she approached you…”

Myka chuckled despite the flush that she felt creeping across her chest, “I was just surprised to see her is all, and well, maybe a bit surprised at how much I realized I _didn’t_ want to see her once she was right in front of me.”

“Hence the rescue and hence why you are now here, dancing with me. As much as I hate that you had to be in an uncomfortable situation to get here, I can’t say I mind the result.”

The flush in Myka’s chest quickly rose to a definitive red tinge in her cheeks, but it didn’t keep her from toying a bit with the end of H.G.’s ponytail, slipping impossibly closer to her, “I can’t say that I mind either.”

They stayed like that, slowly swaying despite the quickness of the beat, for several songs until Myka couldn’t quite help the weight that she felt starting to press against her; how comfortable this felt, how risky this would be if they continued, how much she was starting not to care about the risk. Despite all evidence to the contrary, the insecure, opposing part of her mind started to wonder if this really had just been about H.G. being nice, saving her from an awkward encounter, and how if that was the case, the longer they lingered on the dance floor, the longer Myka was playing on her kindness, keeping her from the party, from everything else she could be doing at this precise moment. Unconsciously, she loosened her arms, slipping them back down so that her hands were resting against H.G.’s shoulders, “We don’t…we don’t have to keep doing this…keeping up appearances. I’m sure Abigail has moved on sufficiently and successfully from whatever she was attempting with me…”

H.G. gave Myka a discerning look, trying to gauge if that was really what Myka wanted or if it was another instance of Myka seeming to backpedal away from her own desires on the off-chance that they weren’t reciprocated. The latter was written all over Myka’s face, in the way her teeth caught at the corner of her lip, the way her eyes kept darting around them, the way her jaw kept clenching. Deep down there was a part of H.G. that wanted to pull back, take the out Myka was giving them, because they were skating dangerously close to a point of no return, yet all of that was overwhelmed, silenced, shunned by the comfort H.G. had found in having Myka like this, if only for a few brief minutes, how comfortable it felt, how easy, how _normal_. She allowed her thumbs to rub slow circles against the small of Myka’s back, “Honestly? I’m quite content as we are…unless you would like to go back inside…”

“No,” Myka’s smile was wide, _relieved_ , “no, I’m good. I just…I didn’t want to…if you didn’t…”

“I do. That house is hot and loud and cramped and this is…this is, well, quite possibly the best place to be at this party.” H.G. watched as Myka’s cheeks tinged a bit deeper, and decided it was safer to maybe pull back _a bit_ from how effusive she was about to be, how close she was coming to telling Myka that she would prefer that they were like this at every social gathering for the rest of the summer, for the rest of… She shook her head with a smile, cocking her head to the side as though her attention was grabbed by something else, “Although, I am questioning the music…”

Myka grinned with a roll of her eyes, “College kids. Most of the time, I have no idea what the hell they’re playing at these things.”

“Apparently, we are woefully un-hip.”

“Claudia would wildly agree with that, trust me,” Myka smirked.

A vibrant, pulsing guitar blazed through the speakers, a rough, jaded voice echoed across the quad, hitting Myka square in the chest with that particular kind of thrum that only certain music at a certain volume can have. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Claudia pulling everyone out of the back door and out towards the dancing, Pete and Kelly running ahead of her, apparently more than happy to dive into the chaos, while Wolly and Steve seemed less certain of it. Silently, she willed them to stay on the opposite side of the grass, to give her just one more song, just a few more moments hidden in this little bubble with H.G. As if by instinct and feeling as though she was no longer in control of her own movements, she pulled H.G. closer, putting a bit more emphasis behind her movements, feeling the drum’s back beat kicking through her blood and urging her to boldness, because how was she to know if she would ever get another moment like this for the rest of the summer.

Without even fully realizing it, Myka recognized that she _knew_ this song, that it was a song Pete had slipped onto the running playlist on her phone in an attempt to playfully annoy her, though it ended up better than he had imagined in the form of Myka actually _enjoying_ it. She wasn’t usually the type of person who picked up lyrics, who necessarily processed music, as long as it sounded good, as long as it made her feel good, she generally went with it, but this song…it was catchy and she found that unconsciously she had learned most of the words as they provided the perfect rhythm to her runs.

She didn’t even notice that she was doing it, singing along, until H.G. leaned into her, lips brushing against her ear as she tried to talk above the music, “You are seemingly _much_ hipper than I am…”

Myka tilted her head back in laughter, “In this particular instance, I just got a bit lucky, because believe me, I’m not.”

H.G. just gave Myka a disbelieving look and returned to paying attention to the music pulsing around them, the way Myka’s hips felt moving beneath her hands, but she knew that nothing could ever make her forget the image of seeing Myka’s lips form the words, the sound of Myka’s voice catching her ear faintly as she sang seemingly unconsciously, _“Don’t look in her eyes…you might fall and find the love of your life…”_

**

Myka didn’t know what made her ask it, whether it was the sheer weight of all the people around them, the pressure of how _overwhelmed_ she felt building in her chest, or just a desire to keep this feeling with H.G. without the impression of dozens of eyes on them, but as the music faded out she leaned in and whispered, “Do you want to get out of here?”

H.G.’s eyes when Myka pulled back to look at them seemed to be fighting a war between darkening with desire and darting away with nervousness, though her voice did nothing to betray which was winning, “I’m certainly open to suggestions.”

Myka chuckled, “I have precious few, but it’s hot and these kids are insane and I don’t know…do you feel up for a walk?”

H.G. grinned and Myka thought she saw her chest release a breath that was being held in, could see it in the sink and relaxation of H.G.’s shoulders. It did Myka good to know that she wasn’t the only one feeling completely turned inside out by their entire situation. H.G. unwound her arms from where they had seemed to have taken up permanent residence around Myka’s hips, sliding their fingers back together and moving them away from the crowd, towards the road. She shot Myka a playful look, “You know, people _will_ start to talk if we keep disappearing from parties together.”

Myka chuckled, but shrugged, “Most of them are too drunk to notice.”

They wound their way through the crowd where Claudia still had everyone dancing, making their excuses, which Myka knew sounded lame, false, _thin_. Excuses like they were tired, hot, uninterested in continuing to drink until they blacked out. Everything sounded like a ploy to get each other home, but despite the look Pete was giving her, she didn’t care. She wasn’t sure _what_ her intentions were for the night, whether it would end with just a walk, whether it would end _at all_ , or whether she would wake up hopefully not entirely filled with regret next to H.G., but she knew wherever the night took them, she wanted to follow.

She watched as H.G. slipped a kiss to Wolly’s cheek, watched as he seemed to whisper something to her with a teasing grin, but she couldn’t find it in her to wonder, to care, not when H.G. was turning back to her with a glowing smile, their hands once again finding each other, as they escaped out into the night, away from everything, from everyone.

**

It took several blocks, but eventually, as they got further away from the party, the bubble that had seemed to have descended around them thinned. They walked in silence, the chill of the night air gathering around them thickly, an indication that there were storms on the horizon. Myka wanted to say something, _anything_ , even if it was something as trite as commentary on the weather, but her tongue felt heavy, her brain foggy, no longer capable of forming words. She chose, instead, to focus on the delicate pressure of H.G.’s hand in her own, but even that small assurance had a breaking point, as their steps finally brought them even with Main Street. The magic, the ease of the party melted away under the glaring light of downtown, and with little ceremony about it, H.G.’s hand disappeared, stuffed into the front pocket of her jeans. It was a gesture Myka was sure was meant to appear casual, but all it took was one look at H.G., the set of her jaw, the uncertainty hanging from her shoulders, for Myka to see it was all a front, a front she had no idea how to crack.

Myka felt herself getting tugged away into the cavalcade of her thoughts, only to be jarred from it by the soft nudging of H.G.’s shoulder against hers. She acknowledged it with a small smile, one that H.G. returned, though Myka could see there was still something hovering in the background. Something seemed to catch in the back of H.G.’s throat, causing her to clear it with a small, self-deprecating smile, before returning her attention to Myka, “Can I ask you something?”

A pulse of nervousness thrummed through Myka’s fingertips, but she didn’t let it show, simply nodded her assent to the question.

H.G.’s teeth chased over her bottom lip, “I fear I’m not sure whether or not we’re still in that two people who have just met each other and thus avoid certain topics period.”

“I’d say rescuing me from embarrassment tonight earns you at least a few questions, regardless of topic.”

H.G. chuckled softly, “I’ll bear that in mind, but for now, I just have one.”

“Shoot.”

There was a small pause, chased by a quick intake of H.G.’s breath and her words tumbling out quickly, “What exactly happened with Abigail?”

Deep down, Myka had been anticipating it, knew that after tonight it was inevitable, yet she still found herself not quite wanting to go down this road with H.G., worried it would at best lead to embarrassment, at worst a keen sense of feeling _pathetic_. She sighed, “I guess, after tonight, you probably deserve that answer, I can’t really blame you for being curious.”

“Myka, I didn’t…”

“No, it’s fine. You are completely allowed to ask. It just…it wasn’t my finest moment.”

“Few of us, when mixed with tequila are at our best, darling.”

It was a small tease, but it was _enough_ , enough to fill Myka with trust that she could just say it and get it over with, “That’s really, really true. In this instance, _far too true_. Although,I think the tequila was just a convenient excuse to explain away a really bad choice and its consequences. I honestly don’t even remember when she started hanging out with all of us last summer, but at some point it just felt like she was _always there_. Somehow, we kind of ended up gravitating towards each other. I think it started because everyone is kind of paired up, especially once Liam’s here, so he has Steve, and Claudia has Fargo and Todd, and Pete and Kelly, and well, Wolly just kind of attaches to _everyone_.” 

That earned a small snort of agreement from H.G., “That is spectacularly true. Remind me to tell you culinary school stories at some point. You’ll have ammunition against him for _years to come_.”

“That would be appreciated.” Myka took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to continue, until she figured she might as well just dive right in, “Anyway, at some point, gravitation turned into casual flirting and that eventually turned into _actual_ flirting. I liked her. She was smart with this subtle sense of humor, but she was also really thoughtful, or at least seemed to be. Then one night, Wolly threw one of his crazy parties, and we both just kind of tossed caution to the wind along with _a lot_ of tequila. She went home with me, and Jesus Christ, we were both so drunk, I can’t say I particularly remember much of what happened. All I know is that I woke up in the morning, exceedingly hungover and _alone_. She moved on to what was apparently a _heavy circuit_ of plenty of other people, while I pretty much felt like shit the rest of the summer for how easy it was to play me. Everyone still teases me about it because I did my best to shrug it off, act like I knew exactly what it was, despite the fact that they all know I don’t really do the whole one-night stand thing, but it was easier than having to own up to the fact that I regretted every single thing about it and hated how hurt I was. It was a total mistake and I felt even worse _knowing_ how stupid I had been. Pete, Steve, and I, hell _all of us_ , talk about how insane it is when people come up here for the summer and fling themselves into these summer romances, only to act devastated when they end, even though they know right from the start that that is exactly what’s going to happen. We’ve all been there enough to have learned our lessons. Trust me, I thought I had learned mine _a long time ago_ , but Abigail was a harsh reminder that I hadn’t, apparently. Tonight was the first time I’d actually talked to her since that night. We avoided each other the rest of the summer. She didn’t really hang around with us much after…got what she wanted and bailed, I guess. Seeing her…it just wasn’t exactly the reminder I wanted.”

The lights of Main Street started to thin as Myka steered their steps to the quiet lawn which stretched out to the shore behind the Iroquois Hotel. The lake was calm even as the clouds bore down on the horizon, black and heavy against the outline of the Mackinaw Bridge in the distance. Their steps halted just before the point when the water would lap over their shoes, both of them keeping up a steady gaze at anything other than each other. Myka tried to just focus on _breathing_ , uncertain that she should have said any of what she had just spilled out to H.G. 

“She’s an idiot.” It was spoken to the horizon, but the words were clear, definitive, unquestioning.

Myka laughed, a bit harshly, “No, that would definitely be me.”

“You’re an idiot because you felt something for someone? Because you expected them to not be horrible and selfish since they seemed to feel the same way? Because you acted on that emotion? I’m sorry, Myka, but I’m fairly certain that if that is the case, you and I have vastly different definitions of idiot.”

Myka had to bite at the inside of her lip in order to stall the tears she felt building, “No, I’m an idiot for almost falling for someone that I knew was absolutely _not_ the right person.”

“Yes, well…” H.G. paused, seeming to consider if she should finish the sentence she had started. “We rarely have a choice about whom we fall for, right person or not.”

There was something _lingering_ behind H.G.’s words, but Myka couldn’t tell what it was exactly. There was a part of her that wanted to believe that H.G. was blatantly referencing whatever it was that was happening between them, but a nudge in the back of her mind told her that the tone of H.G.’s voice indicated that it went far beyond that. There was something deeper there, something that H.G. wasn’t quite ready to say out loud.

Before she even really knew what she was saying, Myka just kept _talking_. She felt as though a dam within her had broken once she had been completely honest about Abigail, and now she wasn’t sure she knew how to stop. She turned away from the shore and settled atop one of the picnic tables that were scattered around the lawn, “Ya know, I’ve never pretended to be ignorant about how odd my life is, about the constraints that have been placed around it by virtue of my choice to live here. I knew, when I decided to do it, that it would come with a cost. I mean, yes, I have people here that I consider family, but building anything for myself? I knew it would be hard, because how do you find someone else who is willing to resign themselves to a life filled with bicycles and ridiculous summer hours where you barely see anyone and three feet of snow in the winter where if you live with someone they are the _only person_ you see for days, maybe weeks, at a time? This life came with a choice and with inevitable consequences, and most of the time, I’m fine with them, I’m happy, but then you feed me half a bottle of tequila and I remember what it feels like to maybe _love_ someone and to _want_ something like that...”

“And suddenly you’re wondering if you’re just going to end up alone, wrapped up in regret? Wondering if the cost was too high?” Myka couldn’t help but turn wide, wondering eyes to H.G., who just gave her a soft nod, a small smile, whispering, “I rather know a bit about that.”

Myka’s voice lowered to match H.G.’s careful tone, “Care to share anything on that front?”

H.G. sighed, closing her eyes against the force of Myka’s gaze, “Will you hate me if I say, not yet?”

“No, I won’t.” Hesitantly, Myka laid her hand flat against H.G.’s where it rested between them, giving it a light squeeze, “After all, we can’t exactly obliterate all of the two people who just met boundaries in one night can we?”

H.G.’s laughter was so small it was almost non-existent, but for a moment it _was_ there, “No, I suppose we can’t.” The soft rush of the waves echoed around them, swallowing up the ambient noise from the street, from the hotel, leaving nothing behind but the push and pull of water over stone and the silence that had once again descended between them. 

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

Myka turned a smirk to H.G., “Despite your own lack of answering any questions tonight?”

“Yes, despite that.” H.G. at least had the courtesy to look almost ashamed at the boldness of her request.

“Sure, as long as at some point I get to ask some questions of my own.”

H.G. inclined her head in acquiescence, “Of course.”

“Then let’s hear it.”

“Do you regret choosing to live here, given the consequences? The cost?”

“No.” It was instantaneous, immediate. No matter what, Myka _knew_ that this was where she was supposed to be, regardless of anything else. “I knew when I moved up here that it was the right choice, that this was where I was meant to be. Nothing will ever make me regret that.”

“Why do I feel as though there’s a ‘however’ dangling somewhere in there?”

Myka chuckled softly, “Because there is, I guess. I will never regret it, _however_ , sometimes…sometimes I do worry that my life here has just become a really convenient excuse to stay safe, to keep myself from getting too far in to anything. I mean, yeah, it’s easy to tease people who fall for someone over the summer, because they know there’s an end date, but there’s no denying that there’s also something very safe about knowing there’s a definitive end that cannot be stopped.”

“If you know it has to end, it’s easy to pretend it won’t hurt when it does.”

“How can it hurt when you’ve been preparing for the end right from the start, right?” With zero thought to an appropriate segue, Myka blurted out the next question that had swam immediately into her stream of consciousness, “Why did you stop Pete tonight?”

H.G. turned to her with a look of confusion, “What?”

“You said that Pete wanted to come interrupt me and Abigail. Why did you stop him?”

H.G.’s eyes bored into Myka’s, flaring with a glint of determination, “Part of it was that I had somewhat figured out what happened between you two, so I felt Abigail was maybe a bit deserving of being knocked down a peg.”

“And the other part?” Myka felt herself slip a bit closer to H.G., her fingers shifting to sink between H.G.’s once again.

H.G. didn’t back down from the question, from what she could feel pulsing off of Myka, “The other part was irrationally jealous, and couldn’t quite find it in me to pass up the opportunity the situation presented.”

As it happened, it felt completely inevitable, neither of them certain which one of them moved first, just that they were both _moving_ , until their lips were pressed together, meeting with a soft kind of urgency. Between them, their fingers shifted until they were tightly twined together, but Myka couldn’t stop her free hand from rising to cup at H.G.’s jaw, reveling in the feel of H.G.’s muscles moving beneath her fingertips, her nails lightly scraping where her fingers almost met the back of H.G.’s neck. 

The waves echoing in her ears made H.G. feel certain she was drowning and she was more than willing to fall, collapse right there in the waves because nothing could possibly feel like this and leave her breathing afterwards. Myka’s lips moved with surety against hers, leaving H.G. positive that she had never been kissed like this, like it was helping her exist and feel and _be_. Her lungs were screaming for air, but she was powerless to pull away until she felt Myka’s teeth catch and nip at her bottom lip, and only as she felt a keening kind of groan rise up in her throat did she realize she _had_ to stop. The effort it took was more than she imagined she was capable of, but she tilted her head back, her forehead resting against Myka’s, both of them gasping a bit for air. H.G. reached her hand out to grip at Myka’s knee, “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Why?” Myka’s voice was breathless and wanting, almost desperate.

H.G. sighed heavily, wanting nothing more than to give into Myka’s desperation, a desperation she felt building in her own chest, “Because we were _just talking_ about the insanity of things like this. Summer flings and end dates and inevitabilities and I really, really do not want to end up being another person on your regret list, Myka.”

Myka’s fingers remained gripped against H.G.’s neck, flexing slightly, “I don’t want you to either, but God…I’m finding it really, really hard to even remember why I care about any of that at the moment.”

They were so close, all it took was for H.G. to tilt her head slightly in order to catch Myka’s lips again, despite everything in her telling her to stop. She ignored them, allowing herself just a few more minutes of _feeling like this_ , feeling Myka’s smile against her own, feeling the way her heart was thudding with such joy and purpose in her chest, feeling like for this one moment nothing, not regrets, not mistakes, nothing in either of their pasts mattered. 

Eventually, inevitably, it had to stop. As if they both knew it, felt it, they moved away from each other, eyes searching the other’s face in search of answers, of signs of uncertainty, of _anything_. 

Myka somehow found her footing first, rubbing at the back of her neck, “I have no idea what we do now.”

“Neither do I. I mean, there seems a very _obvious_ answer to what we could do…however…the intelligence of that…” H.G.’s voice sounded haunted, worried.

Myka sucked in a deep breath, wishing she was impulsive enough to just say to hell with it and take H.G. home, the morning and its consequences be damned. Yet, she knew…she knew they shouldn’t, “Maybe…maybe, we just call it a night. We both go home and _breathe_ , maybe think a bit…because if we stay…I pride myself on my self-control, but I’m not sure even _I_ have enough strength to stop what could happen next.”

“Jesus…you say things like that and I just…” H.G.’s words stumbled and faltered, eventually dying out entirely.

“Want to throw self-control out the window?”

“Precisely.”

“Thus, my suggestion that we should probably both go home…otherwise…I don’t want something happening because we aren’t thinking clearly.”

H.G. drew in a deep breath, one that she wished sounded less pathetically shaky, one that she wished sounded like she was still put together and not slowly crumbling into bits at Myka’s feet, “You’re right. That is probably the best option; get a little distance, gain some clarity.”

They stood, hands still remaining clasped until they reached the road, knowing that Myka needed to go one way and H.G. the other. Myka gave H.G.’s hand a squeeze, reading the concern that was written all over her face, “Just because I’m going home, just because I said we need to think, that _does not_ mean that I regret this happening.”

That earned Myka H.G.’s first genuine, _bright_ smile since they left the party, “That is…a mutual feeling.”

Myka gave her a soft smile, another assured squeeze of their hands, “Good night, H.G.”

“Helena…” Myka’s forehead crinkled in confusion, garnering her another endeared smile from H.G., “For as much as we obliterated the ‘two people who just met’ line tonight, I think we’ve also moved well beyond ‘H.G.’ at this point.”

Myka grinned, feeling a swell of something unknowable rising in her chest, “Right…true. Well then, good night, Helena.”

Heat, pulsing, reckless heat roiled through Helena’s stomach with those few syllables, but she willed her face to not show one ounce of that world-altering feeling, simply giving Myka a contented smile, unlinking their hands as she shifted her steps back towards the direction of her townhouse, “Good night, Myka.”

**

Helena walked back to her townhouse in a daze, high on some heady combination of desire, contentment, and complete mind-numbing confusion. Part of her was thankful for Myka’s declaration that they take a step back and breath, because if they had just jumped into bed without thought to the consequences, well, it might have been enjoyable, but it would have made everything even more complicated than it already was. Her feet traced around her living room without conscious thought, pacing back and forth between her couch and the coffee table, bottle of water dangling from her fingertips. She wanted nothing more than for this to make sense, for this to be simple. It was a _kiss_ , it shouldn’t cause this much anxiety. Yet, she knew, had known from the moment that she had felt that very first pang of want for Myka that this was always going to be difficult. There were too many factors, too many questions, too many complications. This couldn’t just be first dates and seeing where it went, it couldn’t just be fooling around and idling the summer away in passion. It was always going to be _something more_ , it had to be because how she was feeling about Myka was nowhere near some idle passing fling. It was deep and felt like it would be heart-shattering if it didn’t work.

Suddenly the thought of being inside any longer, trapped within walls that still didn’t quite feel like home, made her feel like she was suffocating. She knew that amidst the _silence_ of her house, her thoughts would begin to run so far away from her that she wouldn’t be able to process anything other than her longing. She grabbed her keys from the table and wandered across the street to the vast expanse of the Mission Point hotel’s lawn which stretched out to the shore, dotted here and there with Adirondack chairs. She walked towards them as quickly as she could, dragging a chair a bit further towards the water. She didn’t want to be alone with all of these thoughts, all of this confusion. Despite never truly being the person who ran to someone else to process, to talk about her _feelings_ she didn’t know what else to do. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her message feed with Wolly. Talking to him would be better than being trapped in her own brain, and maybe, just maybe, he could bring some clarity.

_Why is it that I, too frequently, take your bad advice, but rarely heed the good?_

It was cryptic and hedged and she knew that it probably would have done more good to just simply tell him what happened, but as her fingers had begun typing she found that she somehow wasn’t capable of actually typing the words out. Thankfully, the immediate response she received from Wolly proved what she already knew to be the case, he would know exactly what she was referencing, exactly what piece of advice he had given, and more importantly _about whom_ that advice had been bestowed.

_So that exit from the party wasn’t as innocent as I tried to convince everyone else it was?_

Helena groaned, drawing a few curious glances from the handful of tourists that were still out loitering on the lawn despite the late hour.

_I would say it was more innocent than everyone else assumed, but probably not as innocent as you proclaimed it to be._

_How about you stop dancing around the topic and just tell me what you’re clearly trying to avoid overtly saying._

Thinking back to the kiss, to the moment right before it happened, Helena realized she wasn’t entirely sure how to describe what exactly happened. Yes, objectively, there was no ignoring the fact that they had kissed, but the details surrounding it, the movement of it, the _impetus for it_ , on those fronts she was drawing a complete blank. In the end, she opted for simplicity.

_We kissed._

_Oooook…I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised…but clearly it’s made you feel something possibly unexpeted…though through text I can’t really tell what._

_Honestly? I have no idea what I’m feeling either…_

_You were questioning why you didn’t heed my advice. I’m guessing that was my be careful advice?_

_The very same William._

_Does that mean you wish it hadn’t happened?_

Helena couldn’t stop the laughter that burst out of her lungs. There was only one answer to that question…

_No. There is nothing about this situation, confusing though it is, that could make me wish it hadn’t happened._

_Then you’re happy…but confused?_

_I would say that’s accurate.  
I just…I don’t see how any of this happens without either of us getting hurt. I’m wildly out of my depth here, Will. I don’t do this. I don’t just dive into things with zero thought to the consequences._

_Do not hate me for this, but yes, my darling girl, you do. It’s part of what makes you, you, the you I adore. The you that I knew would have a hard time not falling for the seemingly perfect, very interested in you, very complicated woman that is Myka._

_I don’t want to fall for her. I don’t…because it will be complicated and impossible and every shade of unintelligent imaginable._

_Yet, Hel, here you are. I’d dare say you’ve already fallen.  
So what are you going to do about it?_

Helena considered the question, whispered it out loud in the vain hope that the waves might have some sort of response for her, that maybe by some strange sort of Island magic the proverbial message in a bottle would wash to shore with precise, clear instructions about what to do when your heart was calling you to do insane things, like fall for someone you just met…

_I don’t know. I want to say that I can stop it, that tonight can be what it was and we can move on, but I just…I don’t know if I’m capable of that. Though, admittedly, right now, I’m a bit kiss-addled so…_

_Well, how did you leave it? Clearly, you aren’t still with her if you’re texting me._

_We left it…open ended, but comfortable? She said we need to breathe a bit, that we needed to go home and think, but when I think about it, about her, all I can think about is the fact that I like her, no matter how much I wish I didn’t._

_Watching you two tonight, I’d say that feeling is mutual, Hel. I know it is small comfort, but at least it is something…knowing you aren’t in this alone, but that she’s probably as confused as you are._

_That is something…_

There was nothing else to say. Helena admitted that it felt good to have gotten some of the truth off of her chest, that she wasn’t going to go to bed with this _thing_ hanging over her that she had to keep locked up tight all for the sake of keeping up appearances. She loved that Wolly just took what she gave him and didn’t jump to conclusions or judge or encourage her to put a stop to it. As much as he was honest with her, his loyalty always came shining out in the end, no matter what he thought of her decisions sometimes.

Just as she was contemplating finally going home, trying to sleep, her phone buzzed again.

_All confusion aside…how was it?_

Helena chuckled because she could perfectly picture the teasing smirk that was probably on Wolly’s face at the moment, the dancing amusement that he got in his eyes when he was trying to make her smile, trying to pull her out of the darkness.

Unconsciously, her fingers rose up to trace over her lips, still feeling the phantom tingle of Myka’s lips against hers, the surge of heat, the pang of want that had pulsed through her each second it lingered. She let her mind sift back to the moment right before she had closed her eyes, the image of Myka so close, so wondrously present and open, how beautiful she had looked at that moment. As if it was happening all over again, Helena could feel Myka’s lips against hers, the slight edge of dominance to her kiss, the softness that had drifted into it near the end. She sighed wistfully, typing out her response.

_It was…perfect._

_For tonight…focus on that. You won’t solve anything this very second…so maybe, for now…savor it and leave the questions for the morning._

It was precisely what she wanted to hear, even if in the moment she hadn’t thought she had _any clue_ about what she wanted Wolly to say. This was it though. She wanted to be able to take the time to tuck tonight into her memory, to coat it with happiness and contentment, to not allow it to be tarnished by fear or anxiety. All she wanted, in this exact moment, was to remember every single thing about how it had felt to be with Myka tonight. In her heart, that was really all that mattered.

**

Sleep proved itself elusive for Helena, try as she might to _breathe_ , to get some distance, she found herself woefully incapable. Eventually, she decided to call the night a loss, flinging the sheets back from the bed and padding her way to the kitchen. For many, the thought of spending any amount of free time doing what they spent all day doing was abhorrent, but for Helena, baking, while admittedly a blissful occupation, was also the one thing that brought her a deep sense of calm. She turned the radio on, not particularly caring what was playing, just that there was _something_ to fill in the gaps of the silence, something to keep her mind even more focused on the task at hand. She pulled ingredients out of her cupboards at random, determined to just let the night take her where it would. 

The static that had been buzzing in her mind since she had parted from Myka started to recede under the familiar ministrations of measuring and mixing and creating. With each passing minute, she felt more like herself and less like a jumbled up tangle of hormones and emotions. By the time the sun started to crest its way over the horizon throwing scattered, broken shadows and beams of light across the counters, her kitchen was filled with more cookies than she knew what to do with, but her heart felt calm, her muscles at ease, her mind _finally_ quiet. 

She knew she should try and grab a few hours of sleep, otherwise work would feel impossible, but she couldn’t bring herself to lay down. She felt gripped with a newfound need to actually take up Myka’s advice and _breathe_. Haphazardly, she threw on some running clothes, her hair still tied up in its ponytail from the night before, and emerged out into the crisp, still slightly biting air of the early morning. Her headphones pulsed music into her ears, the lake her constant companion as with each pound of her feet against the pavement she wished, almost _prayed_ , for an answer to what was happening in her heart. Yet, try as she might to figure anything out, she couldn’t get the image of Myka out of her head, and all that did was make her all the more certain that she had nothing to figure out beyond the fact that she wanted Myka for however long they might be able to keep this up. End of the summer be damned. Wasn’t something, even something with a definitive end date, so much more than nothing?

Feeling assured in her newfound sense of determination, she eased her pace and made a careful arch in the road, turning around to head back towards town. She was almost within eyesight of her townhouse, when a familiar body came into fuller view on the other side of the road. Part of her said to ignore him, because she had seen his face last night when they’d left the party, it wasn’t hard to decipher that he was _less than happy_ at the way things were developing. Yet, the other, _louder_ part of her said that he was Myka’s best friend, and if this thing with them was going to work, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have him _not hate her_.

She took a deep breath and tugged her headphones from her ears, her previous unease creeping back into her muscles. It took her a moment to gather herself, but eventually she just forced herself to call out, “Good morning, Pete.”

Pete didn’t have the benefit of headphones to give him an excuse to pretend like he hadn’t heard her, even though he seemed as though he wanted to, _desperately_. He sighed roughly, slowing his pace and shooting a wave that he hoped would be _the end of it_ , “Mornin’.”

Helena knew she shouldn’t, but she found she was powerless to keep her feet from carrying her across the street. Pete _had_ slowed down after all, so maybe he wasn’t quite as against talking as she thought he might be. She reminded herself again that this was someone Myka loved, and thus he was important. She tried to ignore the clenching she saw in his jaw as she approached, “Here I thought I was the only one crazy enough to run this early in the morning.”

A tight smile, almost a grimace, tugged at Pete’s lips, “Yeah, well, I have an early morning at work, so…”

“Ah, of course, well, I shouldn’t…”

“How was the rest of your night last night?” The question shot out of Pete’s mouth so quickly that it seemed involuntary.

Helena knew she looked shocked, she couldn’t help it. Of all the things she had anticipated Pete saying _that_ was certainly not one of them. She fidgeted from foot to foot, though she refused to back down from Pete’s eye contact, “It was quite lovely actually.”

A scoff raked through Pete’s throat, “Yeah…I’m sure it was, and already up early and away from her, huh?”

Helena’s jaw dropped, completely stunned, though her mood shifted quickly into being utterly offended, “First of all, this is none of your business, but if you must know, that is absolutely _not_ what happened last night, and I highly doubt Myka would appreciate you making such an assumption. I know I certainly don’t.”

“God…you don’t even know her, don’t tell me what you think she would be feeling.”

“You know what, Pete, why don’t you just tell me what it is _you’re feeling_ , because clearly you have something you want to say to me.”

Pete’s words left him in a heated rush, his voice rising tightly, “Do you know how _fucking tired_ I am of people doing this to her? Of having to watch people mess with her, toy with her, only to _leave her_ , when she deserves so much damn more than that.”

Helena took a step back, her face hardening into an anger she hadn’t even realized was bubbling right below the surface, “I’m sorry, but for as much as you want to tell me that I don’t know Myka, I would remind you that you _certainly_ don’t know _me_ , and therefore have no right to put me in any category that you’ve apparently built up in your head.”

“ _I do know you_. Sure, it’s a different summer, a different time, but the story is still the same. You come here for the summer to get away from your problems or your life or _whatever_ and you think you can make yourself feel better with some summer fling and you don’t give a shit about the wreckage you leave behind.”

“I believe you might be mistaking me for Abigail as the proper recipient of this speech.”

Pete rolled his eyes, “See? You know _nothing_. Abigail is just the tip of the goddamn iceberg. Jesus…you have no idea what she’s been through.”

Helena’s last restraint of composure fled, “And I would remind you that _you_ have _no idea_ what _I_ have been through, Pete. You know _nothing,_ of why I am here, or of anything that has happened between Myka and I over the last few weeks. So, I’m sorry, but this is between Myka and I, not you.”

“She is my family,” Pete bit out.

Helena forced herself to take a deep breath, to reign in the words that were threatening to spill out of her, “And I appreciate that, but that doesn’t change anything of what I just said.”

“I don’t…” Pete stuttered a bit, his fight seeming to retreat a shade, “I just don’t want to see her hurt. I’ve watched this movie too many times to do it again.”

“Trust me when I say that I don’t want to hurt her.”

There was a long, weighted pause. Pete had turned away from Helena, forcing his eyes to remain glued to the horizon, to the dancing of the light on the water. Eventually, just when Helena was debating simply walking away, his voice returned, cracked, but certain, “Would you ever think about staying? Here?”

It was a ridiculous question, or at least it should have been. They weren’t even together, let alone at the point of contemplating a future with that kind of prospect. Yet, deep down, Helena knew that _this question_ was at the heart of why this whole thing was so complicated. Myka was here and if Helena had no desire to be _here_ things with them were a pipe dream. She knew it was foolish, but it was the first time that Helena had thought about it, let her mind fly forward to just what exactly the consequences of all of this would be, _could be_. She’d been unwilling before to let her thoughts drift in that direction, not wanting to get in too far, too fast. Wolly’s words about Myka wanting a love like her grandparents, Myka’s words about the Island being her place, her home, raced through Helena’s mind, leaving her breathless, tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She sighed roughly, “I…I don’t know. I guess…I haven’t really thought about it.”

Pete let out an incredulous, resigned choke of laughter, “Yeah…yeah that’s what I thought. Fine, look, I know you think it’s not my place, but I’ll just say this…you need to think about that before whatever this is gets out of hand.” He turned back towards her, eyeing her carefully, before moving to resume his run, “I’ll see you around, H.G.”

Helena couldn’t find the words, the heart to respond, so she just stood there, dumbfounded and entirely numb as she watched Pete disappear around a bend in the road. Even as she felt tears slipping down her face, she couldn’t bring herself to move, to breathe, to do anything but stand there in the middle of the sidewalk, shaken, broken, and ashamed.

**

“So, boss,” Claudia slumped gracelessly into a chair in front of Myka’s desk and propped her feet up on the desk, “you’re here early.” 

The comment was accompanied by a teasing smirk, but Myka missed it, eyes screwed shut as she yawned for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, and she’d only been at work for an hour. She rolled her neck on her shoulders, “Yeah, well, after a night of not really sleeping, I figured why not just get the day started early since I was awake anyways.”

“Yeah…a night of _not sleeping_ , life’s rough boss.” 

This time Myka didn’t miss the smirk, the wink that came along with it, nor the _lilt_ in Claudia’s voice. The implication was glaringly obvious and Myka realized that she had walked right into it with her words. She knew she should have been anticipating it after her and Helena’s sudden exit from the party, but she was too tired, too lost in her own thoughts to have consciously thought about what she was saying or walking into this morning. She sank back into her chair, letting her muscles go limp with a groan, “God, Claud, _no_ , that is so not what I meant.”

“Uh huh, sure, absolutely, nothing weird or ya know suspicious about you bailing out of the party on H.G.’s arm last night, looking for all intents and purposes like two people who were, well, destined for a night of not sleeping.”

Myka’s hands ran down her face in a vain attempt to mask the blush that she knew was tingeing her cheeks, “I hate you. I really, really hate you, and I hate myself that I can’t even argue with that point.”

“Exactly. So,” Claudia dropped her feet to the floor, leaning forward, eyes dancing with anticipation, “how was it?”

“How was what?” Steve’s head popped around the door. He looked from Claudia’s gleeful face to Myka’s horrified one and immediately recognition dawned. He leaned against the door jamb, eyebrows lifting playfully, “Right. _How was your night_ , partner?”

“Add another one to the hate list this morning,” Myka lamented.

“I’ve dwindled it down to three possibilities,” Claudia said over her shoulder. “Either, one, she’s lapsed into an unhealthy state of denial. Two, she’s so embarrassed by how _good_ her night was that she can’t even form coherent words anymore. Three, the British invasion wasn’t as… _exciting_ as we all expected it to be.”

Steve snorted, pushing himself off the door and slouching into the other chair, “My money is on option one, what about you?”

“Me? Full money on two. Look at those blushing cheeks.”

“ _Oh my God, I can hear you!_ ” Myka’s head hit the edge of the desk with a distinct thump.

“The teasing will continue until you tell us which one of us is right,” Claudia stated simply.

“Come on, Myka,” Steve reached a hand out and nudged the top of her head. “You know neither of us will blame you if what we think happened last night _happened_. You two looked awfully… _cozy_ …last night.” He turned to Claudia with a confused look, “Cozy? Is that the right word here?”

“I’m pretty sure I could think of a few more _colorful_ options.”

“ _Please._ Don’t.” Myka’s words were muffled where she was still addressing the floor from her slumped position on the desk.

Claudia tapped a finger against her chin, “Hmm…oh, I have one! Five letters, starts with an h, ends in y…”

Myka’s head snapped up from the desk, cheeks flaming red, “Holy shit, I will tell you what happened if you promise not to finish that sentence.”

“Yes!” Claudia pumped her fists triumphantly in the air before holding a hand out to Steve, begging for a high five, “I knew that would do the trick.”

“This _does not_ change the fact that I hate you.” Despite her words, a small smile threatened to tug at Myka’s lips at Claudia’s persistent playfulness.

“Hate away, as long as the hate is accompanied by details.”

“Even if those details begin and end with the spectacularly dull statement that nothing happened?”

“No way!” Claudia and Steve’s voices echoed around the office in unison.

Steve gave Claudia an incredulous look at their apparent shared thoughts before leveling his gaze at Myka, “You can’t honestly think we’ll believe that, right? I mean we all saw you guys leave and again I say, _cozy_.”

“You were totally canoodling, boss. There was hand holding. I’m pretty sure we have photo evidence.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “ _Lovely_.” She sighed roughly, sinking back into her chair, “Ok, so it’s not that _nothing_ happened, but certainly not what any of you are thinking happened. We just went for a walk out by the Iroquois. We talked, I told her about Abigail…”

“And…” Steve smirked.

“ _And_ …yes, we kissed but that was it. After that we both just went home, because, well…it’s complicated.”

“How complicated can it be? She’s hot. You two clearly have a _thing_ for each other. Sounds pretty uncomplicated to me.” Claudia shrugged and looked to Steve for backup.

Steve didn’t return Claudia’s look, but kept his eyes trained on Myka, trying to discern what was going on beneath the clinical, extremely lacking in details account of her night. He gave Myka a serene, knowing smile, “It’s complicated because you like her and you have no idea what that means considering the fact your lives are vastly different.”

Myka let out what seemed to be a sigh of relief, “You’re officially off the hate list.”

Steve shot Myka a quick wink, while Claudia stood quickly, “Ok, this is going into feelings territory and that is _so not my territory_ , so I’m going to get to work and leave you guys to the deciphering of the complicated.”

They both watched as Claudia left the office, feet tracking towards Farnsworth and Tesla’s stables before Steve turned back to Myka, “So…complicated…but _good_?

Myka couldn’t fight the smile that overwhelmed her immediately, “God…yeah. Complicated but…amazing.”

“Amazing is good.”

“Amazing is really good…”

“So what are you going to do about the complicated?”

“An entire night of pacing around my house pondering that very question has resulted in the conclusion that..I have absolutely no idea,” Myka chuckled with a hint of self-deprecation.

Steve’s look was considering, curious, “That still sounds like a far cry from the ‘it’s a horrendous idea…that’s _not happening’_ tune you were whistling a few weeks ago.”

Myka pinched at the bridge of her nose, before looking at Steve nervously, “Can I be completely honest?”

“Always, plus I can tell when you’re lying anyway so no point in being anything _but_ honest.”

“True,” Myka sighed. “I’m kind of starting to not care about the complicated, and I know that’s insane. I know I’ve said _a thousand timestemporary_ , but after last night, I’m starting to wonder if temporary is better than nothing.”

“Probably, huh?”

“What?” Myka’s forehead scrunched in confusion.

Steve smirked softly, “You said _probably_ so temporary. Beginning to consider what I said about summer flings becoming _not flings_?”

“I don’t know…maybe. God,” Myka ran her hands through her curls, “maybe I am completely insane, but this…whatever this is, doesn’t _feel_ like a fling. It feels…it feels like it could be something.”

“Would it help with the complication if I said I don’t think you’re wrong on that front? That I think from what I saw last night _something_ is an extremely _tame_ word for what’s going on with you two?”

Myka smiled softly, “It helps, _a lot_. I just feel like I have to see where this goes…”

“You’ll never know unless you try, right?”

“Yeah, except in this instance trying feels an awful lot like jumping out of a plane with zero clue as to whether I have a parachute or not.”

Steve shrugged, “Come on, where’s the fun in life if it doesn’t come with just _a little bit_ of danger, _a little bit_ of uncertainty?”

“I’ll remind you of that if October comes and all that danger and uncertainty has led me to being a pathetic, heartbroken mess.”

“And I’ll remind you that heartbroken or not, sometimes you just have to jump.”

“Jump…plunge to my doom…what’s the difference, right?” Myka smirked.

“The difference is love tends to feel like both of those things all at once and all the time.”

**

Myka gave herself three days. Three days of mind-numbing willpower that she wasn’t entirely sure she actually possessed. Three days where she picked up and put down her phone more times than she was willing to admit. She had told Helena that they needed time, that they needed to breathe, that they needed to think, and she _knew_ that that was the right thing to do, however, the _reality_ of those words ended up being far more difficult to endure than she had anticipated. 

The more time that ticked away, the more Myka’s thoughts began to stray from her, spinning and twisting into things she knew were ridiculous, but given the overwhelming _silence_ that had descended between her and Helena, were starting to seem far too plausible. It wasn’t that she was starting to doubt what she had said to Steve. If anything the time, the space, the breathing had only sought to _confirm_ for her that she wanted nothing more than to see what could happen between her and Helena, that she wanted nothing more than for this to _not end_ at just one kiss. That thought alone, the thought of that being their one and only kiss, was enough to convince her that that was a reality which was simply unthinkable. 

The only problem for Myka was the fact that her own self-assurance meant absolutely nothing in the face of Helena’s glaring radio silence on the subject, on _all subjects_ really. Since they had parted on the street the other night they’d had precisely zero contact, no texts, no calls, no random run-ins, no boxes left on porches. Nothing. It was that nothing that was making Myka feel as though she was going crazy, because what if the time to think had made Helena realize that this was as horrendous of an idea as Myka had originally thought it to be? What if once she had gotten some space and the haze of the emotions between them had faded she had realized that this had disaster written all over it and thus decided that the last thing a summer which was intended to be relaxing needed was complication and well, _disaster_.

Finally, on Monday night, Myka’s willpower ran out. Work had been nothing short of a catastrophe, with one debacle quickly following on the heels of another. One of her new kids had taken a curve too sharply and done an immense amount of damage to a carriage. Thankfully, it had been empty at the time, so at least Myka didn’t have dozens of tourists in her office demanding a refund and threatening legal action, but it still meant one carriage out of commission right when tourist season was starting to pick up into full blown chaos. If that wasn’t enough, she had two horses down with muscle strain and two more interns out with what appeared to be mono, a consequence of spending a bit _too much time_ together. Between driving Kelly crazy with her incessant need for updates on the horses, phone calls to local colleges looking for replacement interns, and convincing the Island mechanic that the carriage needed to be _top priority_ , she found herself at the end of the day completely lacking any further capacity for the unanswered questions in her head.

Once she was home, sweaty, exhausted, and frustrated, she did all she could to distract herself from what she knew she would end up doing by the end of the night, but she decided delaying the inevitable had a certain appeal. She showered, made dinner, and attempted to read, but finally with a modicum of courage inspired by the beer in her hand, she took out her phone and let her willpower disintegrate. 

_So…how is the breathing going?_

Myka was at least thankful that despite her exhaustion, despite her nagging need for answers, her subtlety was still somewhat intact. She knew it had to be, because if it wasn’t, she would have texted Helena what she _really_ wanted to say: _I need to know what you’re thinking because the silence is killing me!!!_

Apparently, much to Myka’s surprise, one tiny corner of the universe was still on her side today because she didn’t have to wait long for Helena’s response.

_It is proving rather helpful in my desire to continue living._

It was coy and a complete _non-answer_ , but Myka couldn’t help the smile it put on her face, the warmth that filled her at being able to perfectly imagine Helena’s voice with that particular lilt it got when she was teasing.

_I have found that breathing and living do make a pretty good couple._

She wanted to say more, to _push_ , but she wondered if that wasn’t the right play here, and so she kept her fingers still, and waited to see what Helena would say.

_They do. Breathing has also proven a wonderful companion in helping me contain my desire to blow up my best friend’s brand new kitchen, so that’s also been helpful._

_Good to know that the awful, horrible day at work karma wasn’t limited to the stables today._

_Apparently it’s going around. The last few days have been…well, exhausting doesn’t seem to adequately cover it. I think I grossly underestimated Wolly’s jokes about being at work more than my apartment._

Myka let out some of the breath she had been holding. Maybe Helena’s silence had merely been a byproduct of being overworked.

_The season is starting to pick up…life gets a little crazy around here when that happens._

_As I am quickly learning.  
So…how is your breathing going?_

Suddenly with the ball in her court, Myka’s newfound surety started to slip. What if she was honest and found out that Helena _really_ wasn’t on the same page? Was she ready for that level of rejection? She sighed roughly, no time like the present to find out apparently.

_My breathing has lead me to pretty much where I was Friday night…I don’t regret it, Helena. I’m actually…pretty damn happy that it happened…_

As much as breathing had been a good suggestion in this exact moment, Myka was finding it a near impossible task to perform.

_It did feel rather inevitable didn’t it? As though neither of us could have stopped it even if we tried._

Again, it was hedged, coy, and Myka was starting to wonder if she was actually going to get any kind of straight answer about what was going on. She decided maybe she needed to be a bit more forthright.

_Do you wish you’d tried? Fought against the inevitable?_

Helena’s response was almost instantaneous.

_No. Never. I am right there with you on the good ship No Regrets._

Myka had started to type a response, feeling a modicum of relief flood through her system, but her phone vibrated another message that made that flood ebb.

_However…I think I am in need of a bit more time to…breathe._

Panic. It was Myka’s first instinct. It was small, a miniscule little pulse of panic, but it was there. She had to admit she wasn’t wholly sold on knowing exactly what she _wanted_ , but she did know for damn sure that she didn’t want this to be over before it started. Yet, she knew pushing Helena wouldn’t exactly help that cause.

_Of course…I get that…we’re kind of wandering in weird territory…take all the time you need._

_Thank you, Myka.  
And I mean it…I don’t regret it. Please don’t think that I do._

_I don’t. I promise._

It was easy to say over a text message, to give that assurance, but deep down, Myka knew, _felt_ , just the tiniest hint of doubt creep in, and she realized she had no idea what she would do if Helena didn’t want to see where this might take them.

**

The benefit of Myka’s catastrophic Monday leading directly into an even more disastrous Tuesday was that she was too busy to even eat lunch, let alone spare a minute’s thought to her conversation with Helena the night before. Her worries, her doubts were shouted down and shoved into a darkened corner of her brain by too many other pressing matters, like whether or not it would be better to just hole up in her office and cry from stress rather than dealing with all the problems that were piling up at her door. 

She ended up staying at the office far too late, the Island completely quiet and asleep by the time she begrudgingly willed her legs to work her bike pedals so she could just get home. She’d barely eaten anything all day. At some point, Steve had cautiously walked into her office, setting a salad in front of her without saying a word and quickly departing, but she had only picked at it, and even that was just out of courtesy for Steve’s gesture. By the time she got home, her body had finally overridden her brain and was reminding her that no amount of stress could cause her to ignore the fact that she was starving. She couldn’t help but feel like it was fate, a gracious, _beautiful twist of fate_ , that when she arrived home there was another Grand Hotel box sitting on her doorstep. 

She knew that tonight, no matter what, Helena’s sugar plan was going to win, because she didn’t have it in her to put up a fight, not when she was this tired and this hungry and the prospect of actually having to _make_ food for herself sounded completely abhorrent. So, though it went entirely against her well attested to _principles_ she knew whatever was inside that box was going to be dinner, plain and simple.

Her hunger had put her into such a state of just _going through the motions_ to get to any semblance of food that she almost missed the post-it note that was inside the lid. She was too busy sinking onto the couch with a contented sigh, happy to do nothing but dive into the massive slice of red velvet cake that had been in the box to notice anything else going on around her. It was heaven, complete and total _heaven_ , and in that moment she was seriously wondering why she had never considered cream cheese frosting as a perfectly acceptable dinner option, when finally her eyes landed on the upturned lid of the box on the coffee table. 

All of Helena’s notes up to this point had been somewhat long, little pithy comments, coy teasing jokes, but this one…this one wasn’t like the others. This one was just two simple words scrawled across the yellow paper.

_I’m sorry. ~H_

Myka pried the note from the box, certain that she was missing something, certain that Helena wouldn’t seriously be this _vague_ , especially after the conversation they’d had the night before. “What the hell is she sorry for?” Myka queried of Trailer, whose only acknowledgement of the question was to cock his head to the side before sighing and resuming his head’s position across Myka’s feet. 

Helena was sorry. Sorry for what? For the kiss? For needing time? For letting things get this far? The bite of cake that had been in Myka’s mouth suddenly felt dry and she had to force herself to swallow before sliding the plate back onto the table, pushing it away from her. She wasn’t hungry anymore. Not even close. She tipped her head back against the couch with a groan, “Jesus Christ, this day just keeps getting better and better.”

**

Some would call it desperation, _pathetic desperation_ at that, but Myka was choosing to look at it optimistically, choosing to see it as nothing short of determination. If Helena was going to give her the brush off, well then, she would have to make her peace with that, however, she wasn’t going to let Helena do that through a goddamn post-it note. She wanted answers, or at least some semblance of an explanation as to what Helena was sorry for. For her own sanity, she needed to know if it was just the simple truth that Helena was here temporarily and had thus decided to hold to her ‘we shouldn’t do this’ stance, or if it was something more, something deeper, possibly some harsher reality like Helena realizing that her feelings began and ended at their kiss. The way Myka figured her week had already been about as bad as it could get, why not just top the whole thing off with finding out whether or not she was being flat out rejected by the first person she’d met in years that she could actually _see herself with_. So it was that Myka found herself sitting on a bench outside the Grand Hotel staff entrance the next day with two cups of coffee next to her waiting _determinedly_ for Helena to get off work.

She had cut out from the stables early, or at least earlier than usual considering all the chaos that was swirling around the place this week, giving herself enough time to walk downtown to get their coffee, and get back up the hill well before Helena would be leaving. The longer she sat, the more her nerves started to wreak havoc on all of her self-proclaimed determination. She had thought that the walk downtown would have been enough time to clear her head, get her thoughts in order, but she hadn’t anticipated what the waiting would do to her. Maybe this was crazy. Maybe this was in fact an act of desperation that Helena would find neither appealing nor attractive. Maybe she needed to let this go, leave it be. Maybe she should just go back to work, offer up Helena’s coffee to Steve and pretend that she had never even thought of making the gesture. 

All of her maybes were shunted to the side by the soft click of a door swinging open, the loud waft of laughter that was clearly Wolly’s. There was no turning back now, it was far too late for that. She looked up to find Helena stopped dead in her tracks, a somewhat surprised, though _pleased_ smile on her face. 

Myka didn’t say anything, didn’t stand, didn’t move, just met Helena’s gaze with a smile of her own. Wolly looked between the two of them and turned to Helena with a teasing grin. He cupped a hand around her elbow and drew her in to place a quick peck to her cheek. When he pulled back he cocked an eyebrow at her, “I’m gonna leave you to it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He passed Myka with a wild, giddy kind of smile on his face, “Hullo, Myka dear.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “Hey Wolly.”

“I warn you she’s cranky…”

“William…” Helena’s tone immediately affirmed his previous statement.

Myka gave Wolly a quick wink, “That’s what the coffee’s for.”

“Ah, well, still…good luck.” He dropped a kiss to the top of Myka’s head and walked off in the direction of his house, idly whistling as he went.

Helena sighed, “Some days I wonder why on earth I put up with him.”

“Something I’m sure he _never_ wonders with you, especially when you’re cranky.”

That earned Myka the tiniest hint of a laugh. Helena shook her head, “Touche… _wicked_.”

Myka knew they could keep up the back and forth banter all night, knew she could tease and toy for the entirety of this conversation and never get around to why she was actually there, _waiting_ , for Helena to leave work. She also knew that doing that would be a complete waste of such a gesture and so before Helena could even take another step towards her, before she could even offer Helena her coffee, the question came out, “Why are you sorry?”

The effect was immediate. Helena’s slight teasing smirk disappeared, her gaze drifting away from Myka, “I should have known I wasn’t lucky enough for this to just be about coffee.”

Myka lifted her eyebrows slightly, holding one of the cups out to Helena, “It was _partly_ about the coffee. I figured we’d both had fairly shitty weeks so far, it was probably much needed. However…it’s also about that question.”

Helena bit her lip in what seemed to be nervousness, “Do you feel up for a walk? I just…” She looked back towards the door she and Wolly had just departed from, “I don’t feel like having this conversation with all my employees constantly spilling out and interrupting.”

A fresh spring of nervousness rose up in Myka’s throat. _This conversation_ sounded an awful lot like an indication that this wasn’t going to go in any direction she had been hoping. She did her best to swallow it down and give herself the appearance of some kind of confidence, standing and giving Helena a small nod, “Yeah, of course.”

They wound their way down the hill, each of them keeping their words, their thoughts to themselves, until they reached a bench tucked beneath several lilac trees that looked as though they were almost ready to bloom. Myka settled herself into one corner, sipping at her coffee and gazing up at the trees, “Give it another week or two and your path home is going to be breathtaking. Assuming you don’t think lilacs are atrocious or anything…”

Helena’s smile was wistful, “Far from it actually. It will certainly make this place feel like home.” At Myka’s questioning gaze, Helena continued, “They are my mother’s favorite. They were a constant companion in our house while I was growing up.”

“They don’t last here long, unfortunately, but they’re beautiful while they’re here. I hope Wolly warned you about the massive amount of tourist influx you guys are going to have over the next few weeks.”

“Thankfully, yes, he did. Apparently, this lilac festival is quite the to-do.”

Myka chuckled, “That’s one way to put it, yeah.”

“Wolly and I are putting together a series of special English teas for the occasion. As if either of us needed _more_ work.”

“The Grand’s clientele will love that though, especially the ones that come up for the festival. That would be right up their alley.”

“That’s rather what we figured as well.”

Another careful silence descended around them, one that felt much more akin to their silences the night they first met compared to how they had felt lately. Once again, Myka was spiraling into wondering if this wasn’t all just another catastrophic mistake in a week of catastrophes, until Helena broke the silence.

“I realize my note was cryptic and vague, and well, for that I’m sorry too.”

“You don’t need to apologize, unless of course you’re planning on not explaining the cryptic or the vague.”

“Honestly? I think, at this point, I’m sorry for so many things that it was rather meant to be a wide-ranging apology.”

Myka took a slow, careful drink of her coffee, leveling Helena with a curious look, “The thing is though…I can think of _nothing_ that I require an apology for, and that’s why I’m confused and showing up with coffee, because if you’re sorry for what I _think_ you might be, then I just need you to straight out say it and we can move on.”

Helena’s forehead crinkled, “You’ll tell me that I’m delaying giving you an answer by asking, but I can’t help but be curious. What do you think I was apologizing for?”

A sigh ripped its way through Myka’s lungs, “I think…I don’t know…I think maybe, I’m worried that you’re sorry because you lied about not regretting what happened.”

“No…” Helena ran a hand across her forehead in agitation, “No, Myka…I wasn’t lying. I don’t regret it…”

“Then you’ve gotta enlighten me here, Helena, because the going around in circles isn’t really doing either of us any favors, and it’s been a long week and it’s only _Wednesday_ , so I think I’d really like one thing in my life to not feel entirely fucked and complicated at the moment, so just…just please say whatever it is that you need to say.”

Helena propped her elbow up on the back of the bench, resting her head against her fist. She at least gave herself some credit for being able to keep looking Myka in the eye as she spoke, “I think…I think mostly I’m sorry for pushing you. For asking about Abigail and for pushing myself into _that_ situation in the first place, and thus pushing us towards something that neither of us were maybe entirely ready for…”

“I’m pretty sure I gladly pushed back. I didn’t exactly go screaming for the hills when you showed up at my side with Abigail, or when we were dancing, or when _I_ asked _you_ to leave the party, or when I willingly answered the questions which you absolutely told me I could ignore. Plus, I’m pretty damn sure I was _completely happy_ to push back when we kissed. That wasn’t a one sided thing.”

A gorgeous tint of pink raced into Helena’s cheeks, evident even in the quickly fading light that was just barely peeking through the trees, “No…no, I suppose it wasn’t.”

“It was one hell of a kiss…” Myka didn’t know what made her do it, if she was even _conscious_ of the fact that she was doing it until it was done, but before she could process it she had slid just a little bit closer to Helena’s side of the bench.

Helena shook her head with a smirk, “So good that a repeat performance would seem like a travesty to skip…”

Myka chuckled softly, a hand tentatively reaching out to grip around Helena’s knee. She smirked, lowering her tone to just the right kind of teasing lilt, “You see, you can’t go around _apologizing_ for kissing me and then say things like that. It’s wildly confusing…”

A barely audible sigh escaped past Helena’s slightly parted lips, “I know…I’m not usually this _contrary_ , but God…you do things to my head, Myka Bering.”

“Is that something _I_ should be apologizing for?”

“Never…it’s the things that happen to my head when you _aren’t_ around that lead to cryptic post-it notes and confusion…”

“You’re not really giving me much incentive to _not_ be around then.” If Myka was being honest she had _no idea_ where this level of flirtation had come from. If Helena wasn’t usually this _contrary_ , then Myka was _certainly_ not usually this flirtatious. Inwardly, she realized Helena had started doing things to her head too, and like Helena, she wasn’t really sure how to process that. She decided now was not the time to try and attempt to figure it out, not when Helena was so close. She tapped out a light rhythm against Helena’s knee, “How many post-its should I expect if I kiss you right now?”

Helena arched an eyebrow, “I suppose you’ll just have to try it and find out…”

Myka rolled her eyes and chuckled before finally letting herself lean the rest of the way towards Helena, who was right there, anxiously waiting, ready to be moving with her. It was slower, somehow less _certain_ , than their first kiss, yet the warmth that spread through Myka’s veins at it was, if anything, stronger, headier, more dizzying. A small keen escaped Helena’s throat and it instantly made Myka wish that they were anywhere but on a bench in the middle of the damn street. Yet, that was where they were and so with a measure of self-control she didn’t realize she possessed Myka pulled back, reveling in the way Helena’s eyes stayed shut just a fraction longer than her own, the way Helena’s breath seemed to flood out of her lungs on a stutter. 

As Helena opened her eyes, she moved her hand to twine her fingers with the ones Myka had resting against her knee. Unconsciously, she licked her lips, unable to keep herself from savoring the lingering feel of Myka’s, the slight hint of Myka’s mint chapstick that was now present on her own lips. She sighed roughly, “You have no idea how much I wish that this could just be _simple_.”

“Is this where more facets of your multi-faceted apology reveal themselves?”

Helena’s smile was incredulous, but there was an edge of sadness to it, “I just don’t want to hurt you, Myka. Jesus, _I_ don’t want to get hurt, either, and I don’t see any scenario here where that doesn’t happen. This is so… _complicated_ , and I will tell you…I rarely handle complicated well.”

“That would make two of us.”

“So what do we do?” Helena didn’t know when her voice had shifted into sounding so helpless, yet that’s precisely how she sounded.

Myka shifted back enough to give herself room to breathe, room that wasn’t immediately flooded with _Helena_ , with the vague hint of sugar and fruit that just seemed to emanate off of her at all times. She refused to remove her hand from Helena’s knee though, somehow feeling as though she needed that little bit of connection to continue this conversation, “We could stop. We could ignore what’s going on here. We could be sensible, if that’s the right word, and tell ourselves all the reasons that I’m sure we _both_ have told ourselves about why this could go wrong. We could be friends.”

An unconvinced laugh fled Helena’s lungs, “Friends? I’m not sure I’m capable of looking at you as a friend when I know what it’s like to kiss you, Myka. Pathetic as that may sound.”

Myka grinned softly, “It’s not pathetic. Trust me, I’m not sure I’ve ever said a more ridiculous sentence in my life than that one. I didn’t even believe myself saying it.”

“Maybe we just need more time. Time to figure out if this is what we want even if it’s complicated. Time to figure out how we both feel.”

“You sound like you’re about ready to start a pro and con list,” Myka teased.

“Do not tempt me…”

“Oh go for it. Believe me, the thought has crossed my mind.”

Helena’s teeth chased across the corner of her lip, “It helps to know that despite your seemingly confident exterior, you’re also wrestling with this.”

Myka’s entire body seemed to shift, to soften. She squeezed Helena’s knee, “I am, don’t you worry about that. Before you came out tonight, I was sitting there debating if I should just run away before you saw me. You’re not alone in the thinking this is entirely complicated and possibly insane.”

Helena tilted her head back against her fist, “So…more breathing?”

“More breathing…” Myka smiled softly. Tentatively, Myka reached out and swiped a thumb across Helena’s cheek, “Sorry…you’ve had flour on your cheek this whole time…”

Helena rolled her eyes, “Hazards of the job.”

“Don’t worry, it was cute. _Much cuter_ than the hazards of my job.”

“I can imagine,” Helena chuckled.

“I should let you get home…”

“Probably…”

Myka gave one last squeeze to Helena’s knee, to their still entwined fingers, before standing and pulling Helena up with her. She leaned in and placed a gentle, lingering kiss to Helena’s cheek, “Whenever you feel like talking…”

“I know where to find you.”

“Exactly.”

It took a few more seconds for each of them to finally move away, decide to turn their feet in the opposite direction and put an end to the night. Once they finally parted, Myka had only gone a few steps before Helena’s voice called back to her, “I meant to ask…how did you like the cake?”

Myka turned, smiling widely, “It was one of the best dinners I’ve ever had.”

Helena raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed, “Dessert for dinner. My, my, Myka Bering, whatever have I done to you and your _principles?_ ”

The only response Myka gave was a smile and a shake of her head, knowing that if she actually _answered_ that question Helena would realize that she had already figured out which side of that pro/con list outweighed the other. It wasn’t even really a contest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that was referenced during the party is "Lola Montez" by VOLBEAT. For me, it has a very HG feel, and most of this chapter was written fueled purely by having that song on repeat.
> 
> Thank you all for sticking around and continuing to read :-)  
> Just as an FYI, the next update will probably come after the holidays so I can hunker down and get my gift exchange fic ready to go. So in the meantime Happy Holidays and all the merry wonder to you all!!!


	6. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka and Helena once again attempt to breathe, but all that leads to is more talking. Talking that leads to decisions...decisions that lead to places they aren't sure they want to go.
> 
> There are bonfires, secrets shared, Pete's mom, a little kicking of Pete's ass, and maybe, just a few tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!! I'm sorry for the hiatus~but we should be back off and rolling with regular updates now that the holidays are over...so thank you for sticking around :-)
> 
> This chapter picks up pretty much right where 5 left off. Myka and Helena decided to take a bit more time to breathe and figure out what they want. Helena continued to ponder her confrontation with Pete. And, of course, they both continued to be completely head over heels stupid for each other--without, ya know, actually saying that to each other.
> 
> As ever, and always, shout out of thanks to @MuddyPuppy for the beta.

Their newest attempt at silence, at thinking, at making decisions barely lasted twenty-four hours. Myka was on her way home from work, thankfully a bit earlier than she had been getting home the rest of the week, and was looking forward to actually having a few hours to herself to eat an _actual_ dinner, maybe even read, when her phone buzzed.

_How are you?_

The pull that Myka felt in her chest, the smile that unconsciously sprung across her face did nothing but utterly confirm for her that she didn’t need any more time to think. She didn’t need a pro/con list, she didn’t need to breathe. She just wanted _this_ , as insane as that possibly was.

She waited until she got home to respond, figuring that it wouldn’t do her any good to fall off of her bike in an attempt to text Helena as soon as possible. Plus, there was always the threat that the Island cops would catch her and actually make good on their threats to start fining people for reckless biking.

Once she was home, she pulled a beer out of the fridge and made her way out onto the back porch, settling into one of her lounge chairs, and only then did she let herself answer.

_I am actually home before 9:00 so I am bloody brilliant. That’s what you Brits would say, right?_

_I would tease you for giving into stereotypes, however, that particular phrase tends to leave my mouth a great deal, therefore…in this instance, you are correct._

_So, that covers me…I’m great and mastering British lingo. How are you?_

_My arsonist tendencies regarding Wolly’s kitchen have lessened and I, too, am home early so…I’d call that a good day._

Myka wanted nothing more than to ask if they should take advantage of the free time, if maybe Helena wanted to meet for a late dinner, but she fought it back. It was one thing to have figured out that she’d made up her mind, it was an entirely different thing to appear too eager.

_Maybe it’s a sign our bad work luck was relegated to the beginning of the week._

_Possibly…_

It seemed like there was more that Helena wanted to say, and for as much as Myka didn’t want to push, she also couldn’t quite help her curiosity.

_So…aside from no longer feeling inclined to become an arsonist…how are you?_

Helena’s response took longer than usual and it was enough to make Myka start to worry, her stomach tingling with nerves.

_Otherwise…otherwise…I think I remain woefully lost Myka…I will not deny that obviously there is something here between us, but I just…I have so many worries…worries that are outweighing my want at the moment._

Myka wanted to cling to that one word… _want_ …but knew that of all the words in Helena’s message, that one was probably the least important. She was trying to figure out how to properly respond when another message came through from Helena.

_I don’t want to become another story like Abigail…another woman who broke your heart, who got what she wanted for the summer and left. I would never want to be that person to you._

A long, weighted sigh fled Myka’s lungs. Helena had so many worries, and if she was being honest so did she, almost an insurmountable amount of worry, but there were at least a few of them that Myka felt like she could assuage.

_Helena…first of all…there is no way that I will ever look at you like I look at Abigail. That was an entirely different situation. As for the rest…I have no idea where the summer will take us, what possibilities it could present, so I can’t even hazard a guess as to where we might find ourselves in October, though I can’t help but hope that it would leave us in a…manageable…situation._

_You seem so sure…_

Laughter bubbled up in Myka’s throat. At least she appeared confident…

_I don’t know if I’m sure…but I’m hitting the point of being unwilling to not at least see what could happen…  
But if you aren’t there…that’s ok. Like I said the other night, we can just let this go…_

The few seconds she had to wait for Helena’s response felt like an eternity. Myka wasn’t sure what she would do if Helena said that she thought letting go was the best option.

_I don’t want to…  
But Myka…there are just so many what if’s._

Finally, Myka couldn’t help herself from pushing just a bit, because she needed to know what exactly was driving all this concern, if it was something more than just the obvious fact that their current reality was complicated, or if there was something more.

_Can I ask you something?_

_Of course._

_I feel like…I feel like you weren’t quite this worried Friday night, and if it’s just that you’ve had a chance to think about it more then that’s fine, but I have to ask…is there something else? Some other reason you’re so worried._

_Did anyone ever tell you that your best friend is very protective of you?_

“Oh shit…” Myka’s fingers fumbled over the screen of her phone, feverishly trying to get to the call button. 

Helena picked up almost instantly, her tone tinged with regret and concern, “Myka…”

“What did he say?” Somehow, Myka wasn’t shocked that this was where they found themselves. Pete hadn’t exactly been subtle with his thoughts about Myka and Helena’s situation. Myka had seen his face when they had left the party together Friday night, knew exactly what he had been thinking. She would be lying if she said her mind hadn’t gone to the same place too, but her desire, the way she was starting to feel about Helena, it had drowned out everything else.

“He just…he made me realize that maybe I hadn’t thought this entire thing through, maybe neither of us have.”

“Ok, that’s completely not his place whatsoever, and I will deal with _that_ later, but Helena…”

“Myka, I don’t want to be another person who leaves…” Helena cut across her.

An incredulous groan tore through Myka’s lungs, “Jesus Christ, he really told you everything, didn’t he?”

“No, Myka, he didn’t…he just…he might have insinuated that you’ve been down this road before.”

Myka checked her watch. It wasn’t that late, and even if it was, this was too important. “I don’t want to do this over the phone. Can we…can we meet up? Talk?”

There was a brief pause, before Helena whispered out, as if she wasn’t quite certain if it was the best idea, “Of course. Do you want me to head up your way?”

“No, no, I’ll come to you. I’ll meet you on the Mission Point lawn in fifteen minutes.”

**

Despite how fast she had pedaled to get there, by the time Myka arrived Helena was already out on the lawn. She had pulled two chairs closer to the water’s edge, and there was a small basket resting between them. Myka left her bike on the side of the road, trusting that it was late enough that she didn’t truly need to worry about locking it up. Suddenly, standing there, seeing Helena fidgeting with something in the basket, Myka was overwhelmed with a vicious concoction of emotions. 

A red hot spike of anger blazed solidly down her fingertips because _what right_ did Pete have to put them in this position? She knew that he would say he was trying to do the right thing, protect her, do all that best friend crap he always claimed was his “job,” and usually she appreciated his loyalty, his care, but this…this was something else entirely. Knowing that he had upset the delicate balance that had been struck between her and Helena was enough to make Myka want to storm up to his house and drag his ass out of bed just to tell him exactly what she thought. Tendrils of nerves fanned out from that anger, settling into her fingertips, leaving them tingling with electricity. This felt like a tipping point, some sort of make or break moment between the two of them that would decide just what exactly the rest of the summer would hold, and Myka wasn’t sure she was ready to face the answer. Yet surrounding all of that, spreading through her chest and settling low in her belly was the main emotion Myka had been feeling from the moment she had seen Helena get off the ferry… _desire_ , desire mixed and mashed up with longing and want. She was acutely aware that it was crazy to feel like this, to want this so badly when it went against every single one of her instincts, but there was no denying when she looked at Helena, all she could see was what they could be. It was that potential, that hint of a future that her mind kept spiraling towards which kept a tiny nugget of fear nestled in Myka’s throat, because thinking that far ahead could be exceedingly dangerous.

She willed her desire to fuel her steps, because if she let any other emotion dictate her actions tonight she wasn’t sure that she’d ever actually get out to the chair that Helena had waiting for her. She took one long, slow deep breath and then just forced herself to _move_.

Helena had to have heard her approach because she turned quickly while Myka was still a good ten feet away. Myka was at least happy to see that a smile was quick to spring across Helena’s lips at the sight of her. It was good to know that even if she was worried, she was still happy that could have these moments together. 

Unwilling to jump directly into the conversation at hand, Myka gestured to the basket, “Are you going to use this as another opportunity to ply me with sugar?”

Helena laughed softly, settling into her chair and opening the basket, “No, I just hadn’t gotten a chance to eat dinner and I thought maybe you hadn’t either, so I threw some things together. Plus,” she lifted out two bottles of beer from the basket, “I figured we might also be in need of these…”

Myka took the bottle with a grateful smile as she sat down in the other chair, “You just might be my favorite person right now because I’m starving and I abandoned my own beer on my back porch.”

A smaller smile, less _sure_ but somehow more content, pulled at Helena’s mouth, “There are a couple of sandwiches in there, some fruit, and _yes_ , cookies, but eat whatever you like. I won’t force the sugar issue this evening.”

Myka reached into the basket and pulled out a small Tupperware of grapes, leaving it open on the arm of her chair if Helena wanted any. She gave herself a few seconds to simply eat and savor the sound of the waves in her ears, the way the breeze was coming off of the water with the perfect balance of early summer warmth and a still subtle chill. Absent-mindedly, she tucked her legs up onto the chair, nestling her chin against her knees, toying with the ends of her shoelaces, trying desperately to discover if the words she needed to speak were somehow locked within the water before them. Finally, she just decided to talk, to say what came to her mind first, “Pete had no right to put all of this onto you, Helena.”

Myka heard Helena let out a small exhale, but she couldn’t get a read on whether or not it was laced with frustration, incredulity, or sadness, “He loves you. You’re his family, as he reminded me _quite_ adamantly. He just wants you to be happy.”

“Somehow, wanting me to be happy and dumping all of my history at your feet seem like conflicting desires on his part.”

“Maybe…but how are we to know if this will lead to either of us being happy, Myka? We met all of six weeks ago.”

Myka sighed roughly, “Yeah, and in those six weeks, I have told you things that I _never_ tell anyone. God…this is going to sound so pathetic, but what the hell, might as well just throw caution to the wind, right? The last six weeks…I’ve never felt like this, and I mean that in an absolutely ridiculously good way.”

Helena took a slow pull from her beer before she whispered out, “There does seem to be something here…and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Well, you seem to have the worrying part of all of this down…”

“Can you honestly tell me that you _aren’t_ worried, Myka?” 

A hint of frustration whipped through Helena’s words, and Myka knew it was time. Time to just get everything out and on the table. She ran a hand through her hair, roughly tugging her curls away from her forehead, “Of course I’m worried. I would be a damn fool not to be, because for as much as I want to punch Pete for what he said to you…I’m guessing that he was pretty much right about most of it. He probably said that this isn’t really the first time I’ve been in this kind of situation, and…he’s right, relatively. He probably failed to mention that he’s still insanely bitter about the fact that it was his childhood best friend that played a pretty significantly role in all of it.”

“I thought _you_ were Pete’s childhood best friend?”

Myka chuckled, “Yeah, well, I was, but it was a shared distinction because Sam was here long before I was. Sam would be the number one to Pete’s number two in their graduating class. His parents lived right next door to Pete’s, so they literally grew up together. They were born like two weeks apart, and they were some of the only kids on the Island. They were completely inseparable. I didn’t really know Sam when we were little, though. His family tended to leave a lot during the summer to avoid the tourist insanity, so he was rarely here when I was, and then he left the Island right after they graduated high school, so we just never quite seemed to overlap. Everything I knew about him was from Pete, until a few years ago. It was my first summer here after Gram and Pap died. I had just made the decision to make the move full time, and so I was still really figuring my shit out. Well, Sam ended up being here too. His mom was sick and so he had taken a job up at Fort Mackinac for the summer just to be close by. He never planned on staying, he just wanted to be here until she got better. Well, one thing led to another and somehow we kind of fell into a pretty intense _thing_. Of course, I should have realized that a lot of it had to do with me dealing with losing Gram and Pap, and him dealing with his mom, but I couldn’t see that at the time. By the end of the summer, things were pretty serious, and Sam seemed to be sure that he wanted to stay. The Fort needs full-time workers, and we were happy, and he seemed…content. It all happened really fast, but I was in love with him, probably more than I should have been, and I was convinced that we could make it work. The way I figured, if he wanted to live here that was great, perfect even.” Myka sucked in a deep breath, pausing to take a few sips of her beer.

“I’m guessing perfect wasn’t exactly in the cards?”

Myka laughed half-heartedly, “Umm, no. He was miserable here. It was like he suddenly remembered why he left in the first place and he couldn’t believe he was crazy enough to come back here permanently. It didn’t particularly matter that _I_ was here, all that mattered was that this Island was far too small for the life he wanted. I didn’t begrudge him that, honestly, because I didn’t want to live a life stuck with a man who was utterly miserable in a place where I was so happy. We broke up before the next summer began, and while it was relatively amicable, it didn’t quite make up for how awful the entire winter had been. I hated having memories of this place tainted by so much misery, and I was angry about that, and of course, I was a little heartbroken, I mean I _did_ love him, though he told me I loved this Island more than him…so…take that for what you will, I guess.”

“Suddenly everything you said the other night about your life here, about its inevitable consequences, about finding someone…”

“They make a lot more sense, huh?” 

“God,” Helena groaned slightly, her head falling against into the palm of her hand, “here I was thinking this was just about Abigail…”

Myka chuckled softly, “No, Abigail was just the huge mistake that reminded me of the dangers of summer flings. Sam…Sam was the heartbreak that made me wonder if my life here, my admittedly happy life here, was meant to be solitary.”

“Pete said…” Helena’s throat was suddenly thick, trying to process everything that Myka had just said, “Pete said that he was tired of watching people leave you. Was that just about Sam?”

Myka let out a low whistle and downed the rest of her beer, “Man…you’re just going to get the whole Myka Bering Lifetime movie tonight, I guess.”

“Myka, if I’m overstepping…”

“No, you’re not. Pete put you in the position to want to know, and if any of this can help us figure out what the hell is going on with us, then you should absolutely know all of this.”

Helena groaned loudly, letting her head fall back against the chair with a soft thump, “I _hate_ that Pete has put you in this position. You should be telling me all of this on your own time, on your own terms, not because you feel you _have_ to.”

“I would have told you at some point…”

“Still…”

“I know, but this is where we are, Helena.” Myka took a deep breath. She didn’t mind talking about Sam, she was long since over it, and well past the point of having realized that they didn’t work and while it hurt at the time she was much better off now. The rest of it though? The rest that she had to tell Helena, well that she absolutely detested talking about no matter how long it had been. She sighed, might as well get it over with. “There’s a reason that I’ve chosen to build my family out of the friends that I have here, and it’s the simple reason that my family have been out of the picture for a long time.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that inheritances are complicated things. Do not get me wrong, I will never cease to be grateful that Pap and Gram left me everything that they did. The house, the means to work at the stables. They gave me my life, and everyday I try to make them proud, to live into the legacy that they left here. However, the rest of my family, my parents in particular were less than thrilled that I got the house.”

“Did they want to live here?”

Myka couldn’t stop the bark of laughter that left her. She took in the surprised look on Helena’s face and reached a hand out to wrap around Helena’s wrist, giving it an apologetic squeeze, “Helena, I’m sorry, that’s just…well, _no_. They didn’t want the house so that they could live here.” She paused, eyeing Helena carefully, “Do you have any idea what property goes for up here?”

“Not particularly, but I live in DC, so property value is a bit skewed in my mind.”

“DC isn’t really that much of an off the mark comparison. Houses run in the millions up here, even the small ones in Harrisonville pull in astronomical amounts. You don’t just _buy_ a house here, it’s usually passed down. My parents saw Pap and Gram’s house as the greatest opportunity they’d ever had to take advantage of that. They figured the house would pass to my dad, they’d sell it, and settle in for a lovely early retirement. When it didn’t go that way, when I refused to give them the house, but said I was taking it for myself, that I was going to live here, they were livid. They refused to see that Pap and Gram left it to me because they _knew_ how I felt about this place. Pap and Gram knew it was home to me. They also knew that my parents only came up here in the summers out of obligation and were miserable most of the time. I was the only one that loved it like they did. I wasn’t going to let that go, no matter what it cost me. What it cost me was pretty much any connection I’d ever had with my parents, which admittedly wasn’t much to begin with, but still it caused an irreparable rift. They still come up on occasion, but it’s all for show. They like to pretend that people don’t know what happened, and so they come up and play the doting parents and then get the hell out. It’s ridiculous.”

“That is…awful.”

Myka shrugged, “I was bitter for a really long time, but after a while I decided it wasn’t worth the energy. Pap and Gram were always the ones I went to when I needed something, they were the ones I felt like raised me, even though they were here and I was in Colorado. They were the ones that came and visited me in Ann Arbor, even when the weather was awful. I don’t owe a damn thing to my parents, but I sure as hell owe living an honest, good, _happy_ life to Pap and Gram, because they wanted nothing more than that for me.”

“And Pete wants that for you too. That’s why he said what he said to me, he’s seen you go through all of this. How could he not try to protect you from more heartbreak, Myka?”

“Trust me, I get his intentions, that doesn’t mean I appreciate them.”

Helena’s head was spinning with everything that Myka had told her and more importantly with the question Pete had posed to her. Would she stay? She honestly had no idea. When she’d told Wolly she would come for the summer, it was never with the intention of staying, of even considering it. Now, looking at Myka, _knowing_ Myka, how happy she was, how content she was in her life, Helena couldn’t imagine disrupting that. If Helena wasn’t sure if she could give Myka something more than the summer, she wanted no part in drawing out that heartbreak. She cared for Myka, felt something exceedingly _strong_ for her, but it was strong enough to make her realize that she didn’t want to be another person that left, and she had no way of giving Myka the assurance that she wouldn’t be. She didn’t want to be the person who hurt Myka more, who hurt her _again_. She didn’t want to make promises that she wasn’t sure she could keep. 

If Myka’s history wasn’t enough, Helena had to consider her own, what she had been through over the last six months. She didn’t want to rush into something with Myka only to discover she was using Myka to heal her own heart. It wasn’t fair. _None of this was fair_. How could it be fair to find the one person you could actually envision falling in love with only to have everything else in the universe working against you? How could it be fair to fall in love with the unattainable, the unsustainable?

Myka’s words broke into Helena’s reverie, “It’s too much isn’t it? All of this? I’ve just spilled out my whole history to you of how people have dealt with the reality that my life is here, and yet all I want to do is ask you to see where this could go with us, and how the hell is that fair? God…Helena…I’m sorry.”

Helena felt a steady trickle of tears slip down her cheek and slide across her jaw, “No, Myka, I am the one that is so very sorry.”

“You’re sorry because I’m right, aren’t I? It’s too much.”

“I just don’t see how this ends in anything other than devastation and complication.”

Deep down, it was what Myka had been expecting. Somewhere within the darkest corners of her heart she’d been preparing herself for this moment from the second that Helena’s arm had slipped around her waist Friday night, hell probably from the moment she had gone out onto Wolly’s porch that very first night. She knew it was probably for the best. Might as well put a stop to it before either of them got _really_ hurt. 

Helena let out a despairing kind of laugh, “Somehow everything in my bloody life always comes too soon and too fast. Somewhere along the way I have completely messed up my karma, pissed off someone to make the perfect thing become too much, to make the perfect thing come when I’m least expecting it and not at all prepared.”

“Yeah, well…” Myka swallowed back the tears that were building in the back of her throat, “since when are any of us ever prepared for perfect, right?” 

“That is regrettably true. We think we have it, only to realize we don’t. We find it, only to realize we can’t have it.”

“Ya know, some time you’re going to have to explain to me how you found yourself here. Why your life is too soon and too fast. Don’t think for one second that I’ve missed the fact that you’ve got complication too, Helena. I think I just got lucky in the fact that your best friend is Wolly, who, unlike Pete, isn’t willing to dump all of your dirty laundry at the feet of the woman you’re falling for.”

Helena felt a small sob rise up in her throat, because Myka needed to _not be falling for her_. Yet, Helena knew she was and Helena also knew…she was right there with her. She tried to muster up a small laugh, but it was foolhardy, “Yes, well, William has always had a rather unique approach to the whole best friend job.”

Silence descended around them in thick, heavy waves. There was nothing else to say, nothing else to do other than sit and take in these few moments together, with nothing but the waves and their entwined hands to keep them company. Eventually, Myka felt Helena’s fingers shift in her own, felt her moving out of her chair. She went to stand up too, but Helena was already there, leaning down in front of her, hands reaching out to tuck under her jaw and draw her forward. 

Myka tried to pretend that she couldn’t taste the salt on Helena’s lips, tried to pretend that her own tears weren’t trickling back and into her ears, probably along Helena’s wrist. This kiss wasn’t like the others. The others had tasted like hope and bright lights, but this…this tasted like regret and goodbye and _too much, too fast_. Myka felt like Helena was trying to give her the entire summer, the entire breadth of _could be’s_ and _what if’s_ in this one kiss, refusing to let her go, refusing to let her breathe, refusing to let her do anything but kiss her hard and slow in return. It was a kiss to make you forget, forget your own name, forget your own past, forget that the pair of lips against yours had a past too. It was a kiss to make you forget everything that might have been if only you’d been a little less afraid, if only you’d been willing to jump, to take a chance. It was a last kiss, the kind that makes you regret that there won’t be another, but also leaves you thankful that at least you got _one more_.

**

As Myka walked back across the Mission Point lawn, absolutely refusing to look back at where she had left Helena, who had claimed she wanted a few more moments alone outside to process, Myka debated just getting on her bike and riding like hell immediately to Pete’s door. She didn’t care that it was late, she didn’t care that he might be asleep, she didn’t care that she might be interrupting he and Kelly’s night. All she wanted to do was scream at him and demand an explanation for where the hell he got off in doing this. She wanted to ask him all the questions that were swirling around her head, why he felt it was his place, why he thought this would help, why he thought helping break her heart would keep her safe? _Why?_

Inwardly, she knew the answers. She knew that ever since they were five years old, Pete had always felt the need to watch out for her even when he didn’t need to. She knew that this was what they did. She knew what that impulse felt like, because she’d given into it herself on enough occasions to understand. It was this impulse to protect, to _help_ that had led to her punching a kid much older than she and Pete’s fourteen years who had made a crack about Pete’s dad dying only weeks after it had happened. It was what had made her convince her parents to let her take two weeks off of school in the middle of the year when his dad had died, just so she could be there, even though he’d told her not to come. It was what made her tell Pete that he was partying too much their first summer interning, talking him back from a cliff that was slowly crumbling beneath his feet. _She got it_. She really did, but it didn’t stop her from wishing, in this moment, that Pete felt that instinct a little less strongly. 

However, as much as she wanted to give vent to every negative, angry, _pissed off_ emotion in her heart at the moment, as much as she wanted to scream and yell, she knew it wouldn’t help, not right now. She would talk to Pete, that moment would come, but if she did it now, it would only make an impossible situation worse and she didn’t really want to deal with _worse_ right now. She let her feet pedal without much thought until they brought her to the end of the road out of town, until she once again found herself on the lawn of the Iroquois Hotel. She knew this was its own kind of acute torture, allowing herself to come _here_ where everything felt like it was about to _start_ in the immediate aftermath of it all _ending_ , but she didn’t want to go home, not to the strange, different kind of silence that was the four walls of her home, her life. At least outside, here by the lake, she was alone, but it wasn’t _silent_. There was the rush of the waves and the occasional blare of a boat’s signal. There was the sound of late night tourists biking, the drifting music from the Iroquois’ lobby. There was enough to distract her from feeling so utterly _hollow_. There was enough to remind her exactly why this was _home_ , and why sometimes that fact was worth all the sacrifices that it demanded. 

She settled onto the same picnic table she and Helena had occupied all those nights ago and finally let herself fully _cry_. She had allowed a few faint tears to escape when Helena was kissing her, but she had forced herself into some kind of control to not entirely lose it. She knew she didn’t want to do that in front of Helena, knew it would only make her feel more pathetic. Now that she was alone though, she couldn’t help letting it all collapse. She didn’t blame Helena, nowhere near it. She understood whole-heartedly the decision to just let this be, because there was no denying that this was complicated and it would be nothing but hard. No matter how good it might feel, it would also never stop feeling impossible. As much as Helena didn’t want to be another person who left her, Myka didn’t want to be the person who asked another person to _stay_. Deep down she knew she hadn’t forced Sam to make that choice, knew that they had made a mutual decision for their relationship, one that he seemed happy with, yet as it fell apart around them, Sam had made her feel like she had pushed him, had forced his hand, had given him an ultimatum and she _never_ wanted to be in the position of being accused of that again, warranted as it was or not.

Helena didn’t need that kind of pressure, didn’t deserve it. Wolly had tried so hard to get her here in the first place, the last thing that Myka wanted was to taint the summer that the two of them were supposed to have together. She didn’t want to be a weight, a pall over what was meant to be a relaxing summer away from the chaos of Helena’s regular life. She wanted Helena to be happy here for however long she was here, and if them putting a stop to this led to her being happy, then Myka would do her part to keep it from being awkward or uncomfortable or miserable. 

Yet despite all of that, despite the cold assurance that had settled into her chest that she could _do this_ , it didn’t stop Myka from feeling as though tonight she had lost something that she had been searching for for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t help but feel like something had slipped through her fingers tonight that she should have fought like hell to keep within her grasp.

The chill coming off of the lake was starting to sweep underneath the fabric of her shirt, and she had left her house in such a hurry she hadn’t thought to bring a coat. Begrudgingly she stood, not truly willing to leave the comfort of this small corner of the Island. As her feet tracked the steps back to her bike, out of the corner of her eye she caught the very distinct shining lights beaming out from one of the houses that lined the street leading away from town. Unconsciously, she made her way up the flower lined walk of the Victorian house where she felt like she had spent almost as much time growing up as she had at Gram and Pap’s.

Knocking on the door lightly, she didn’t even bother giving a thought to whether she was disturbing the occupant of the house, waking them up, she knew instinctually that if there was anyone still up at this hour of the night on the Island, it was the person who lived here. She heard soft footsteps padding towards the door and when it opened she didn’t even have to speak. Jane Lattimer took one look at Myka’s face and pulled the door open wider with a smile, “I’ll start the coffee.”

**

“Hold on, my son did _what?_ ”

They were comfortably ensconced in Jane’s living room, Myka settled on the floor, back against one of the armchairs, sitting as close to the fire as she could, while Jane was reclined across the couch, their coffee cups idly forgotten in both of their hands.

Myka sighed with a soft chuckle, shaking her head, “His heart was in the right place.”

“I don’t care where his heart was, his mouth needed to be nowhere near that conversation. Whatever was, _is_ , happening with you and H.G. is none of his business.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure _was_ is the right verb there. She, _we_ I guess, ended it tonight.”

“Because of what Pete said?”

Myka took a small sip of her now cold coffee, “Not really. Sort of. I don’t know. I can’t say it wasn’t a contributing factor. I told her about Sam, about all the shit with my parents, and that pretty much solidified what she already knew…my life is here. I’m not going to be the person who asks her to give up everything on the _off-chance_ that this works, and she doesn’t want to be the person who leaves me. That particular phrase _is_ Pete’s fault. He told her he’s tired of watching people leave me.”

“Well, I should probably apologize for that. Pete certainly got his lack of tact from me, not from Thomas.”

Myka raked a hand through her curls, “Yeah well, your influence might be a contributing factor, but I’m pretty sure Pete’s lack of tact is an unique brand of his own.”

Jane sighed, tipping her head back against the arm of the couch, “Pete had no right to interfere with this, Myka. It’s your life. It’s your relationship. If you don’t tell him that, I certainly will.”

A small puff of laughter escaped Myka’s throat, Jane was nothing less than blunt at all times and Myka adored her for it, “I’ll tell him, don’t worry. But the thing is…God…”

“The thing is what?” Jane’s tone was definitive, brooked no argument. It was something else Myka simultaneously adored and abhorred about Jane, she didn’t let anyone off the hook on anything.

“The thing is, I don’t blame her. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t want to come near this with a ten foot pole. I mean who wants that much baggage right at the beginning of a relationship? It’s not just a question of do I like this person? It’s immediately do I like this person enough to change my entire life for them? No one needs that kind of pressure.”

Jane rolled her eyes, “You do realize that there are more options available in front of you than date me and move here or not date me at all, right?”

Myka groaned, “ _Yes_ , but inevitably it would get to that point. Sure, we could do the back and forth thing, but eventually it would come back to that question, and what happens when once we get to that question the answer is still no? That’s a level of heartbreak I’d like to avoid.”

“You know if you spend your whole life avoiding heartbreak, you’re probably going to spend your whole life avoiding love entirely.”

Myka’s eyes followed Jane’s where they had drifted to the top of the mantle to land on a picture of her and Pete’s dad on their wedding day. They were so young, so blissfully happy. Myka had always envied Pete when they were younger for having parents that were so ridiculously in love with each other. Her parents _loved_ each other, but in a way that seemed more obligatory than voluntary. Somewhere along the way they’d fallen into the routine of marriage and anything they’d truly felt for each other seemed to have hardened and died a bit. Pete’s parents though had been stereotypically, disgustingly in love. They were the couple that grossed Pete out by holding hands in public, planting sloppy, playful kisses to each other’s cheeks because it embarrassed their son and because they couldn’t help themselves. Between them and her grandparents, it had given Myka hope for what love, what marriage could some day look like. Yet, it had all come crumbling down when they were teenagers. 

Pete’s dad had been one of the few full-time firefighters on the Island. One winter an idiot on a snowmobile had decided to test the strength of the ice on the lake long before it had been officially declared safe for travel. Pete’s dad had been one of many who had gone out to save the man, but he was the only one who hadn’t come back, dragged beneath the lake too suddenly for anyone to stop the inevitable. It had left the entire Island devastated and Myka had witnessed first-hand what it had done to Jane, heard from Pete how it took her months to go back to sleeping in their bedroom. Eventually, she had risen above the loss, rallied to a strength Myka didn’t even know was possible, but there was still that haunted, _lost_ look in her eye whenever Thomas was mentioned. It was a look that said they hadn’t gotten enough years together. It was a look that said no matter what happened, Jane Lattimer would always be Thomas Lattimer’s wife through and through until the day she joined him again. 

As if sensing her thoughts, Jane spoke up a bit quieter than before, “If someone asked me whether or not I’d give up the life I had with him if it meant I’d escape the pain of losing him, never, even on my worst days would I say yes.”

Myka’s thoughts drifted to her grandparents, how Gram had gone so soon after Pap by simple virtue of the fact that she couldn’t bear to live without him. She felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, “That’s different though. He was your husband, he was the love of your life…this…this is someone I’ve known for a handful of weeks.”

“So?”

“So…I get what you’re saying…that love is worth the risk and I want to believe that, but I’m saying this isn’t love…”

A burst of laughter echoed around the living room. Jane looked at Myka sympathetically, even while she tried to catch her breath, “Oh honey, if you are sitting here on my living room floor with tears in your eyes because you kind of, sort of broke up? You’re in love.”

“But that’s insane!”

“Maybe, but tell me I’m wrong.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “You know I can’t.”

“Exactly.”

Silence wrapped its way around them with the swirling comfort of the smoke making its way up the chimney from the fire. Myka had no idea how to properly wrap her mind around everything Jane had just said, the _reality_ of it. Did it matter that she _might_ love Helena if it was already over? Was there even the remotest possibility that on the other side of the Island Helena was wondering the same thing? Exactly _how insane_ was it to even be pondering that word at this stage?

Jane’s voice wound its way back into her consciousness, her brain only half processing what she was saying, “Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but…they worried about this. Al and Jules. They worried about what your life would look like if you moved here, if they put that on your plate…”

Myka practically did a double-take looking at Jane, positive that she couldn’t have heard her properly, “They talked to you about that?”

Jane chuckled sweetly, “The three of us shared many a conversation around this very fire, though your Pap always preferred a glass of whiskey to coffee…”

“‘Best thing to help you sleep other than a good day’s work,’” Myka perfectly quoted her grandfather.

“Indeed.” Jane’s fingers filtered across her forehead, her eyes glinting with remembrance, “The majority of our conversations centered around you, around Pete, the lives you were mapping out for yourselves. When Al got sick…Jules would come here a lot, especially when others came by the house to give her a break. They figured she needed to sleep, but really she just ended up here in front of the fire needing to talk. She told me they had decided to leave you the house, that they wondered if you would make the decision to move here when the time came. They knew how much you loved it here, how happy you were, and they wanted that so much for you, Myka, but they worried…worried that they were putting a burden on you too early. They didn’t want you to feel like you were giving up your life to make them happy.”

“This life, living here makes me happy,” Myka whispered.

“And that’s why they ultimately left you the house. They knew that, so deeply. Yet, they knew you, sweetie. Knew you’d dive into this life so ardently and make your way, and they worried that you would end up having to do it alone. They knew the cost of living here. They loved you so damn much, and they wanted you to have everything you possibly could…love included.”

Myka’s tears had resumed hot and fast, her mind awash in memories of those last few days with both of them. She had fought like hell to get to the Island when Pap got sick, took time off of work even when she didn’t have it, and stayed until everything was over. She never had anticipated watching both of them go, but she was eternally grateful to have been there. Through many long nights, she and Gram had more conversations than she could count, but never once had she indicated that she and Pap were worried about Myka’s future. Myka always wondered why they hadn’t told her about the house before, but ultimately realized they probably always thought there would be more time, and it was all over before they realized how wrong that assumption had been.

She sucked in a deep, though shaky, breath, “It’s not that I don’t _want_ that. It’s not even that I don’t think I could have it, maybe with Helena even, but there’s not much I can do if she doesn’t want it too. I can’t make her want a life that she doesn’t want.”

Jane gave a tiny sort of laugh that Myka found unreadable, “Honey, you make your life what you want it to be. I think you both have to make sure you aren’t giving up on this thing too fast just because it’s _complicated_ and will need work.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s beyond complicated, Jane.”

“Oh who cares?” Jane shrugged with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ve known you since you were five years old, Myka and never once have I known you to be a woman who backed down from a fight just because it was tough.”

Myka pushed a hand through her curls with a rough sigh, “I just don’t want to be the person who pushes too much…”

“There’s a difference between pushing and not giving up.”

Myka chuckled, “You’re just full of sage advice tonight aren’t you?”

“Well, I very well couldn’t just let you sit there and cry on my floor all evening without having my say,” Jane grinned. 

Myka nodded in agreement, directing her small smile to her coffee cup where her finger was tracing around the rim.

Jane’s voice once again broke through the creeping silence, “Myka, I need you to know that I’m not telling you to just throw your heart out there to let it get crushed. I would never want that for you. I’m just saying, if you _really_ think this could be something, don’t give up before you’ve truly, _truly_ tried. The best things are worth the complication and the difficulty.”

“And what if she doesn’t want to try?” Myka tried to stifle a sniffle but knew she failed miserably.

“Then that is her choice, and you try to live with it. However, that will be easier to live with than the reality that you just gave up. You’re a Bering, darlin’ and I’ve never known a Bering to give up that easily.”

Eventually, the weight of the night, the exhaustion of Myka’s week fought through the emotion and the adrenaline pumping through her veins and Jane declared that unless she intended to sleep in Pete’s old room, it was probably time for her to get home.

Jane walked her to the door, but wrapped her in a tight hug before opening it. She whispered against Myka’s throng of curls, “My light is always on…you know that.”

“I do. Thank you, Jane,” Myka gave her a slight squeeze before separating from her with a smile.

Jane gave Myka a scrutinizing look, squinting her eyes with a tiny smirk, “So, will you be kicking my son’s overprotective ass or do I get that honor?”

Laughter filled Myka’s chest with a freeing kind of warmth, “I’ll take care of that, don’t you worry.”

“Oh I’m not worried, honey, but I can’t promise I won’t get my own shots in as well.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “Of that I have no doubt.” She leaned over and placed a kiss to Jane’s cheek, “Good night, Jane.”

“G’night dear. Get home safe.”

**

Helena had watched Myka walk away, felt as though she was memorizing every step Myka took because somehow it felt _significant_ , this act of watching Myka walk away from her, from _them_. Helena knew, deep within her, that if she’d said it wasn’t too much, if she’d said she would be willing to try, if she’d said anything other than _“I’m sorry,”_ Myka would have stayed. Myka would have stayed, would have fought, would have come up with a million different ways for them to figure this out. In what was an admittedly short period of time, Helena had learned, discovered, carefully analyzed the fact that while Myka appeared generally comfortable, almost casual, in a carefree, I’m content with my life sort of way, there was also a heavy layer of determination and intention that lay just below the surface. She was not a woman who did anything by halves, but seemed to dive into things with her whole heart. So, yes, Helena was certain, had she indicated that she was willing to take that dive with Myka, Myka would have gone, flung herself headlong into whatever unknown future was ahead of them.

However, as Helena sank back down into her chair on the lawn because Myka no longer visible in the darkened street, she knew that none of that was possible, because that wasn’t how she operated, certainly not when things were so uncertain. She would never deny that she felt something for Myka, that that something might border dangerously on the edge of _love_ , but she also wouldn’t deny that she wasn’t the type of person to sacrifice all layers of sanity for love’s sake. If you did that, you got hurt, irreparably hurt, and she wouldn’t do it. Not again. 

Yet, despite knowing that they had made the right decision, the sane decision, the _practical_ decision, Helena couldn’t help but stare out at the black, churning waves in front of her and wonder if she hadn’t just been a colossal idiot. Hadn’t she told Myka the very same thing about Abigail all those nights ago? Hadn’t she thought about Abigail walking away from Myka, leaving her alone in a bed after a night of passion, and been acutely horrified, because _how_ could anyone when presented with such an opportunity with Myka just walk away? Hadn’t she inwardly, quietly thought that if _she_ had been in Abigail’s shoes, she might never have left that bed ever again? Here she was though, alone on the lawn of an Island she barely knew, an Island she had never truly wanted to come to in the first place, having found _someone_ , someone that could make her actually _feel_ something, someone that seemed to be everything she could ever hope for, and she had let it go, all because it might be too hard.

Her fingers idly came up to toy with her phone which was laying abandoned on the arm of her chair. She debated calling Wolly. He was always her barometer on things such as these, on matters of the heart, had been since they were young. Wolly always knew what she needed to hear, when he needed to push her, when he needed to back off, always knew that blatant, obvious, _not subtle_ thing to say. She couldn’t bring herself to do it though, that simple act of pressing a few buttons to sink into the reassurance and comfort of her best friend, because deep down she knew what he would say. Wolly was many things, but above all he was eternally optimistic. No matter the situation, he could find some sort of bright side for Helena to focus on, find the right angle to encourage her, to push her towards what was good for her, hard or not. It was this fact alone that kept Helena from calling, because she didn’t want optimism, she didn’t want misguided _hope_ , she didn’t want to hear how this was just a setback, how maybe they would figure things out, how maybe it was the right decision. She didn’t want _anything to do_ with any of those explanations and comforts. What she wanted was to wallow, to feel this hurt until it sunk into her bones and her flesh indelibly, to replay all of Myka’s words over and over until she would never forget them, to relive that kiss until she was certain that no one would ever kiss her like Myka Bering had. 

Eventually the wind, the chill coming off the water got the better of her and she begrudgingly gathered up her things, tossing them into the picnic basket without care, and trudged back to her apartment, fearing how early her alarm was going to come in the morning. She got ready for bed without conscious thought, collapsing against her sheets and fighting to keep her mind from pulling her where it had been going incessantly since that first kiss; what it would feel like to have Myka _there_ , right next to her, innocently curled up in sleep, curls playfully mussed and tangled. Those thoughts were now fruitless, only designed to cause more damage now that it was over. She needed to move on, move forward, because even if she _was_ an idiot, this _was_ the right thing to do. She didn’t live here. Myka loved it here. Her life was in DC. Myka’s life was here. It didn’t matter how happy, how content she felt around Myka. It didn’t matter that she had started to maybe, possibly envision how things could work. It didn’t matter that this Island had started to creep into her veins. None of it mattered, because this, this hurt, it was safe, it was easier, it was _better_.

As she drifted off to sleep, suddenly bone tired, the ghosts of her past echoed through her ears bringing with them thoughts that she had tried to escape from the moment she stepped off the ferry in April. Maybe she was selfish. Maybe she was self-centered. Maybe she was cold. Maybe Giselle had been right…about her, about everything. 

**

Myka knew it was just a shade petty, showing up at Pete’s door this early in the morning. He and Kelly were some of the few on the Island that had jobs which _didn’t_ require being up at the crack of dawn, so she knew that she was most likely going to be dragging Pete out of the warm comforts of bed. She was finding it hard to care this morning though about anything other than just saying what she needed to say, getting it off of her chest before she went to the stables. She knew she couldn’t carry this around with her all day, knew that that level of distraction would result in some sort of work disaster, and she’d had enough of those for one week. She needed to go in clear-headed and if what it took to get that was pulling her best friend’s ass out of bed at six in the morning, she’d do it.

She pounded on the door as loudly as she could, only to be greeted far quicker than she expected by a very much awake, very much only partially clothed Pete. His smile was wide and surprisingly chipper for the early hour, “Top of the morning, Mykes!”

Her initial instinct was to ask why he was up so early, to tell him to put a damn shirt on, but all of those were drowned out by the anger curling around her entire self, screaming to know _why on earth_ Pete got to look so damn chipper, when he had led to her getting her heart broken the night before. A flash of Helena’s tear-stained lips raced through her mind, sending all of her instincts out the window save the one that caused her to level a punch to Pete’s shoulder with more force than usual, “ _What the hell_ do you think you’re doing?”

Confusion raced across Pete’s face as he distractedly looked around, as though _what he was doing_ was somewhere around him. He gave Myka a concerned look, “Uh…I just got back from a run because I have to be at work early…”

Myka groaned, hands flying up to rake through her curls, “ _God_...I could not care less why you’re standing there without a shirt on. _What were you thinking_ , Pete?”

Realization seemed to dawn in Pete’s eyes as he almost physically retreated out of the doorway, somehow curling into himself, shrinking back against the reality of why Myka was standing in front of him. He palmed the back of his neck, “Mykes…”

“Don’t _Mykes_ me, Pete. Why on earth would you think that it was a good idea to say _anything_ to Helena about me? Where do you get off thinking that it was _your place_ to get in the middle of what was going on with us? What…”

“Jesus, I was trying to _protect you_ , Myka!” Pete exploded, his words cutting across Myka’s. He no longer looked remorseful or troubled, but simply…angry.

Myka groaned, her voice rising up to meet Pete’s, “I don’t need your protection!”

The effect was instantaneous. Pete’s face fell and all that was left was him looking hurt, as though Myka could not have said anything worse to him, like she had just told him that something he had centered his life around was no longer relevant, that _he_ was no longer relevant.

Myka sunk under that look. She sighed heavily, leaning against the doorframe, “Look…I love you, you know I love you, but this…this wasn’t your place, Pete. I get it, where you were coming from, what you were trying to do, but this is my life, and if I get hurt then so be it. Helena is worth the hurt to me…or was, I guess, since…well since it doesn’t really matter now.”

Pete’s eyes widened in wonder and a hint of shock, “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”

“She called it off. Whatever _it_ was, I guess.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“Mykes…”

Myka waved a dismissive hand towards him, taking a step back to avoid where he was reaching out to seemingly try and comfort her, “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.” A self-deprecating, incredulous laugh escaped past Myka’s lips, “God…you didn’t want me to get hurt, well…I guess it’s too damn late.”

“I didn’t mean…God…I’m sorry.” Guilt laced its way through each of Pete’s attempts at speaking, winding its way around each word in the hopes that its mere presence would make everything ok.

Suddenly, Myka felt like she couldn’t be _there_ , like if she kept staring at Pete, listening to his flawed and stilted attempts at apologies she would break, collapse right there on his and Kelly’s porch and possibly never get up. She took another step back, feeling all of her muscles tighten, her resolve harden, “I don’t want your apologies, Pete. At least not right now. I’ll…I’ll just see you later.” She turned on her heel, fighting against the tears that were building behind her eyes.

Pete tried to get her to come back, fruitless calls of her name echoed behind her, but she ignored them, refused to hear them. The damage had been done, intended or not, and they’d both, they’d all, have to deal with the consequences of that in due time.

**

If asked, the majority of people would assume that dinner at the Grand Hotel was the most hectic time of day, what with the hustle and bustle of an entire dining room of guests with expectations for a spectacularly elegant and undeniably delicious dinner. The groundswell of orders flooding the kitchen were assumed to be the thing which caused the staff the most stress. However, those assumptions came nowhere near the truth. The truth of the matter was that the heart of the afternoon in the middle of the Grand Hotel kitchens would strike fear into even the most stalwart of chefs. Seven days a week for two hours a day the Grand opened its doors to the entire Island’s population for lunch. The price never seemed to deter anyone, never seemed to limit the number of tables filled. Without fail, every single day, hundreds of people had to be fed quickly, efficiently, and superbly in order to maintain the tradition and the reputation of the Grand Hotel’s lunch buffet.

Usually there was nothing that could deter any of the staff from their hyper-focus to the task at hand. Everyone had a role, a small corner of the kitchen to occupy. You didn’t deviate from your job, you did what you were told, and prayed that you would survive, make it to the other side of two o’clock when there was always the promise of a _break_ before prep for dinner began. 

During these times, Wolly rarely cooked anything himself, but spent more of his time supervising his staff, making sure the well-oiled machine he had created continued to move and flow without error or hiccup. He had a system, a plan, and he did his best to stick to it, operate within the confines of what needed to happen, because that’s how things were done at the Grand, that’s what kept their customers happy and constantly returning. Today though, he knew that machine was well on the brink of collapse and if he didn’t do something out of the ordinary to fix it, they all would be in a world of trouble. It took a great deal of convincing within himself to step outside of the carefully constructed rules he set himself for these few hours, but eventually there was nothing else to do, but _move_.

He abandoned his side of the kitchen, stepping carefully into Helena’s side which was a spiraling disaster of powdered sugar and the distinct smell of something burning. He waded through the frantic movements of Helena’s staff, all of them characterized by eyes darting with terror, hands shaking with uncertainty, and that particular rush of movement that always signaled this time of day. Eventually, he made his way over to one of the stoves where Helena was vigorously stirring in a vain attempt to bring a caramel back from the brink of oblivion. Carefully, he tucked a hand around Helena’s elbow and gave it a small tug.

Eyes flashing with frustration and stress turned to him, “Wolly, I _do not have time_ for whatever it is you need.” Helena jerked her elbow away from him continuing to stir while simultaneously turning and shouting to one of her sous-chefs, “Michael! I swear if another tray of those tarts burn…”

“Alright,” Wolly gripped his hand around her elbow again and pulled with more force. “Come on Dictator Wells, it’s time for a breather.”

“William, _I swear to God_ …”

“Yeah, yeah, you can show me the full breadth of that colorful language of yours once we’re outside.”

“But my staff…” Helena continued to try and fight back against Wolly’s grip, struggling to go back in the direction they came from, back to her stove.

Wolly rolled his eyes, “Your staff will _also_ be thankful for the breather.” He shoved a door open, drawing them out onto the back lawns of the hotel which were doused in sunshine and warmth. He released Helena’s elbow and settled himself on a bench opposite the door, stretching both of his arms out across the back, leveling Helena with a curious, almost amused, stare.

Helena let out a frustrated huff, folding her arms and looking back towards the door, “What on earth are we doing out here?”

“For the safety of the staff, I’m giving you a bit of a time out.”

Helena groaned, “You’re being ridiculous. _They_ are being ridiculous.”

Wolly chuckled, “Hel…they are being unbelievably gracious and determined in the face of whatever is going on with you today. You’ve been here for two months and never once have I seen you yell at anyone until today. I’ve also never seen you burn caramel since I think like week two of culinary school, so don’t tell me that it’s me or your staff that is being ridiculous.”

Helena sighed, but didn’t say anything, just turned and leaned against the building, head bowed in frustration, unable to fully meet Wolly’s eye. His gaze which was too understanding, too loving, too caring. 

There was a rustle of gravel, the shifting of stones beneath steps, until Helena was coming face to face with the undeniable view of Wolly’s shoes, standing directly in front of her. She sighed, “Wolly…please…can we just go back inside?”

“Not until you tell me what the hell happened. Why you’re so upset.”

A small hiccup caught in Helena’s throat and she instantly felt judgment race through her brain because she was apparently going to cry, _again_ , over this. She cleared her throat roughly, still not meeting Wolly’s eye, “Myka and I broke up.”

An astonished kind of gasp escaped Wolly’s throat, “I didn’t realize you were together…”

“We weren’t…we _aren’t_ …I have no idea what we are _or aren’t_ honestly…but,” Helena’s hands wove through the air with some misguided hope that the words to properly explain her and Myka would appear out of thin air allowing her to wrangle them into her grasp. She let out a slow breath, tipping her head back against the sun warmed walls of the building, finally meeting Wolly’s eye, though he was watery through the haze of tears in her eyes, “It’s not that we were together, but we were close to _something_ , and now we are very much _not_ close to anything. I woke up this morning and the only thing that seemed to come remotely close to how I felt was…dumped.”

Wolly’s eyes widened unconsciously, “She broke up, or whatever, with you?”

Helena rolled her eyes, “I’m going to ignore how implausible you seem to think that is, and simply move forward and say no she didn’t.”

“So you ended it?”

“No…I don’t know…it felt like a rather mutually arrived upon agreement.”

Wolly chuckled, “Ok, I love you both, but you’re both certifiable. I think you’re going to have to walk me through this break up, not break up, mutual parting _thing_.”

“We just got a lot of things out in the open last night, particularly Myka. She told me about…Sam,” the name felt like acid on Helena’s tongue, “and her parents, and just her life here, and we decided that all of this, the implications of it were far too complicated and we both would like to avoid the heartbreak.”

“Oh yeah, you seem to have really dodged the bullet on that one.”

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated, William.” Helena sniffed slightly, bringing her fingers up to swipe across her cheeks in some attempt to rid them of tears, “This is ridiculous. _We weren’t together_ , it shouldn’t feel like this.”

Wolly reached out and pulled Helena away from the wall and into his arms, holding her tightly, “I know, but there was _something_ there and it’s understandable that it hurts, but maybe…maybe you guys were right, ya know? Maybe all of this was always going to be too complicated to be anything but painful, so while yeah, it hurts now and it sucks now…maybe…maybe it’s for the best.”

Helena pulled back to eye Wolly carefully, “Do you mean that?”

He sighed roughly, “I don’t know...maybe. The last two months I have wavered spectacularly between rooting for you guys and hoping that _this right here_ didn’t happen, so I have no idea.”

Fresh tears crept past Helena’s eyelashes, “She’s wonderful. She’s everything I could possibly imagine wanting. She’s stubborn and feisty and so goddamn smart, and just _everything_ , and because of that I don’t _want_ this to be for the best. I want her.”

“But…”

“But if I feel like this when nothing has happened, how on earth would I feel when I left in October if it kept going? How would I feel if we tried and it fell apart for all the reasons we feared? How would I feel knowing all of this could have been prevented? _I don’t want to feel like this_ , Wolly.”

“I know…which is probably why…”

“This is for the best, yes I know.”

Wolly shifted and pulled Helena back into another hug, “I hope you recognize that my restraint in making a Rolling Stones reference just then about not getting what you want is indicative of how much I love you.”

Helena chuckled softly, though it was stifled by another small sniffle, “Your restraint is noted. Your I love you is also noted and it is immensely reciprocated.”

Wolly dropped a small kiss to the top of Helena’s head, “Think you can go back in there and not yell anymore? Not murder anymore unsuspecting, innocent caramels?”

Helena chuckled, “I think so.” She pulled back, fanning at her face in the hopes of going back into the kitchen without looking like an utter disaster. She shook her shoulders and took a deep breath, “Ok…I’m ready, and who knows…maybe…maybe now that we’ve gotten this all out of the way, we can just…we can just be friends.”

Wolly couldn’t contain his laughter, slinging an arm around Helena’s shoulder, “Oh Hel…I adore you, but I really, really wouldn’t hold your breath on that one.”

Helena’s shoulders sank, “I know…wishful thinking…”

“Probably, but you never know…sometimes wishful thinking ends up working out.”

**

_So, I get that you’ve been avoiding me…and pretty much everyone all week, but that doesn’t mean it is not completely expected that you are at the bonfire on Sunday._

Myka read the text from Wolly with a frustrated huff, tossing her phone back onto her desk and turning back to her computer in a feigned effort at getting back to work, refocusing her attention after the vibration of her phone had distracted her. Yet, she couldn’t tell if she was more frustrated with Wolly or herself. She knew that Wolly was just being _Wolly_ , and of course she knew about the bonfire, _had known_ about it for days, and _of course_ she would be there, knew the message it would send if she wasn’t. None of that was enough to stop the tugging in her stomach though, the tugging that told her that all of this was beyond frustrating. It was frustrating that this thing with her and Helena was somehow enough to make her want to bail on the things she usually looked forward to the most during the summer. It was frustrating that she knew that she wouldn’t enjoy the bonfire as much as she wanted to because Helena would be there and it would be distracting and painful and most likely about one hundred different kinds of awkward. It was frustrating that it was becoming ridiculously apparent that her previous comments to Helena about them being friends were spiraling into when hell freezes over territory, because she was dreading seeing her and that just wasn’t how one should feel about a _friend_. It was frustrating that Wolly had figured out that Myka _had_ been avoiding him, staying at work later than usual, leaving earlier than usual, all in an effort to avoid running into him on his way home from work. She knew it was childish, but she also knew that it was the best form of self-preservation she had because she couldn’t handle Wolly once again _being Wolly_ , and asking if she was ok and trying to smooth the waters. She knew she couldn’t deal with him mentioning Helena, mentioning that she was miserable, or even worse that she was perfectly fine. So, she had done what she had too, avoided seeing him, talking to him, talking to _anyone_ really, because what was she supposed to say? She was miserable because her maybe, sort of, but not really girlfriend broke up with her for perfectly valid reasons that she couldn’t even argue with? The entire thing was ridiculous and maddening and _frustrating_.

She tried in vain to just focus on her computer screen. She had orders to put it, delivery schedules to organize, but her thoughts kept tugging her back to her phone. She knew if she didn’t respond Wolly would keep texting or just show up at the stables and demand that she acknowledge him and _that_ was something she didn’t need. With a rough sigh, she grabbed her phone and typed out a quick reply.

_Of course I’ll be there..wouldn’t miss it._

_Don’t think I missed the fact that you’re completely ignoring the avoiding me topic._

Myka rolled her eyes. Wolly being Wolly.

_Well…it’s not like I can really deny it with any real conviction.  
I am sorry though…_

_No, Myka…don’t apologize, please. I get it. I completely and totally get it. I’m just glad you’re coming this weekend, I’ve missed you._

_Right back at ya, you crazy man._

Myka stared at her screen for several long moments before throwing all caution and control to the wind. One string of texts seemed to have broken the dam of all of her carefully constructed constraints.

_How is she?_

Wolly’s response was instantaneous.

_She’s miserable. I’ve had to keep her from setting the place on fire or firing everyone…_

She hated to admit it, but Myka felt slightly _better_ knowing that Helena was dealing about as well as she was, yet, she couldn’t help feeling guilty about it too, because the last thing she wanted was to be the reason that Helena had a miserable summer. That seemed counterproductive to the first conversation they’d ever had when Myka had done her damnedest to convince Helena that she would find a reason to be _happy_ here. Myka had never planned on being the reason she wasn’t.

_It sounds like you and Steve will be well-deserving of a lot of alcohol this weekend…I haven’t exactly been the best partner this week either._

It was so true that Myka didn’t even want to think about it. She’d moped around the stables all week in a haze of melancholy and a short fuse. Eventually, Steve had told her that he would take care of the interns for the week and she could focus on the paperwork, because they didn’t need everyone walking around terrified that they were about to lose their jobs.

_She misses you…_

Somehow it was exactly what Myka wanted to hear and exactly what she wanted to ignore, because it would only make things harder. Yet, she couldn’t deny it…

_That would be an exceedingly mutual feeling…_

Myka heard her phone vibrate a couple more times, but she chose to ignore them. She couldn’t bring herself to see what else Wolly had to say. This was too hard already, and if she had any hope of getting any work done she needed to stop thinking about this and focus. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself from already fearing what on earth Sunday night would bring.

**

Myka waited for as long as she possibly could to actually walk over to Wolly’s Sunday night. She made up a million excuses in her head for why she hadn’t left yet, tried to ignore the music pumping across the backyard, the shadows that were dancing on the back of Wolly’s house from the fire. Eventually she knew that her time had run out, if she didn’t go over, someone would _come get her_ , and that was something she wanted to avoid. 

Grabbing a couple of bottles of wine from the fridge, she whistled for Trailer, “Come on, bud. You’re joining the fun tonight.”

Trailer’s tail wagged vigorously in apparent understanding of Myka’s words. The way she figured, Trailer would be the perfect distraction and would keep her busy enough, focused enough to hopefully survive the night without any sort of embarrassment or pain.

All of those hopes fled the moment she opened the gate between her and Wolly’s yards because while everyone seemed happy to see them both, Trailer only had eyes for one person. Immediately upon seeing Helena, he darted across the backyard coming to a skidding halt at her feet begging pathetically for attention. Myka wished she could turn away, ignore it, but she was powerless to do anything but watch as Helena kneeled down with a bright smile and began scratching behind Trailer’s ears. Her voice carried over the music, over the distance between them, “Well hello handsome boy…I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Myka’s stomach twisted and pulled as Helena left a kiss to the bridge of Trailer’s nose, causing him to nestle further into her affections. Myka sighed, apparently she was flying solo for the evening…perfect. Just as she started to move further into the backyard, started to ignore Trailer’s apparent betrayal, Helena’s eyes caught hers. It only lasted a second, a mere hint of a glance, but in that moment, Myka saw, _knew_ that Helena was as miserable, as uncomfortable, as torn up as she was. Helena’s smile was laced with the recognition that had things been different, had the other night not happened, Myka would have been right there with Trailer, by her side, already deep in conversation. Had the other night not happened, tonight would have been a much needed, much anticipated evening together, allowing for a few stolen hours away from work and the chaos of the season. Yet, the other night _had_ happened, and so they both knew, _felt_ that this one glance, this one stolen moment would most likely be all they had all night. Anything else would have just been too hard.

**

“You’re going to pull a muscle if you keep trying to look at her while also trying _not to look at her_ ,” Wolly idly commented over the lip of his beer. He’d been talking to Helena about a letter he had gotten from his mother with updates from home, but it had become readily apparent that Helena wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, far too occupied with trying to surreptitiously catch a glance at Myka. She’d been doing it all night, trying to feign indifference and casualness and in the end doing nothing but making it glaringly obvious how much attention she was paying to Myka and Myka alone.

Helena rolled her eyes, looking back at Wolly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yeah, sure, sure. You haven’t spent the whole night looking at her. I’m sure you could tell me _something_ that I’ve said in the last five minutes,” Wolly teased.

“For the love of God, William…”

Wolly laughed with jovial incredulity, “Don’t _William_ me, Helena.” He took a long pull from his beer, eyeing Helena carefully, where she once again was focused on Myka, “Ya know, it might sound like a crazy idea, but you _could_ go talk to her.”

“No, I couldn’t.” This time Helena didn’t even pretend to return her focus to the conversation at hand, just continued her thinly veiled attention on the other side of the fire.

“Why not? It’s not like you guys hate each other now. There’s no reason why you can’t just talk to her…as friends.”

Helena scoffed, she was beginning to despise that word. _Friends._ As though she could go over and talk to Myka like they were friends, when all night she had been trying to convince her brain to stop thinking about just going over there and pinning Myka against the fence and kissing her senseless. 

She knew she couldn’t exactly say _that_ to Wolly so she said the first thing that came to her mind, “It would be awkward. To just go over there and pretend as though the last week hasn’t happened, as though the last _six weeks_ haven’t happened…I can’t do that.”

Wolly’s face fell into a gentle look of understanding. He gripped a hand around Helena’s elbow, drawing her attention, “Would it help if I said that I’m sure she is feeling the exact same way? Would it help if I told you that every time you have looked away from her she’s been looking at you?”

“I honestly don’t know…”

“You guys will figure this out. It was always going to be a bit awkward to start, but eventually you’ll find your footing, discover how to be around each other in this…new capacity.” Wolly passed a hand over his forehead with an incredulous chuckle, “Jesus, I’m not even involved and _I_ sound awkward talking about it.”

Helena gave Wolly a gentle smile, he was trying so hard to navigate this with her, to be supportive. She cupped a hand to his cheek, “Oh William, you are _always_ awkward.” She laughed softly at the crinkle of his nose, at his apparent mock offense. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, “Thank you though.”

“Anytime.”

“I’m going to go get another drink, I’ll be right back.” Helena moved across the backyard, forcing herself to not look back, to not try and catch Myka’s eye, but to move forward. _New capacities_. She hated that. She didn’t _want_ to be in any capacity with Myka that didn’t involve them together, yet she knew they had made the right decision. _She_ had made the right choice, hard though it might have been, awful as it might feel in the moment. This would all end up being the best thing for both of their hearts. She poured herself another glass of wine and turned to walk back towards Wolly, but she couldn’t help herself. One more glance. One more look. Myka looked…devastating, in every sense of the word. She was all casualness, just the right pair of jeans and a loose turquoise t-shirt, but that alone was enough to make Helena’s heart feel like it was going to pound out of her chest with an overwhelming ache, an overwhelming _want_. She tried to _not_ take a subtle amount of pleasure in the fact that since Myka had emerged from the other side of the fence she had barely strayed from Claudia’s side, engrossed in conversation with her, Todd, and Fargo, and seemingly uninterested in Pete’s presence on the other side of the yard. Helena knew it was petty, she shouldn’t be rooting for their friendship to falter, yet, to know that maybe Myka still harbored a bit of anger over what Pete had done…she hated to admit it, but it helped. It made her feel certain that she wasn’t the only one completely wrecked and torn up by how things had ended up. 

She was so caught up in her thoughts, her thoughts which weren’t letting her move away from the table where the drinks were set up, that she hadn’t truly realized that she’d left herself wide open for approach. Before she could process what was happening, Myka was there, right next to her, close enough to touch, but as usual, _never close enough_. She felt her breath catch a bit, but whether it was out of surprise at Myka’s sudden presence or just another consequence of _devastation_ she couldn’t say.

Myka grabbed another beer from the table, twisting the cap off with a shy smile towards Helena, “Hey.”

Despite herself, Helena felt her cheeks flare with a surge of heat, suddenly embarrassed, almost _shy_ around this woman who had said far more intimate things to her than _hey_. She willed herself to meet Myka’s eye, to not back down from this offering of communication, of something, of _new capacities_ , “Hello Myka.”

“You’ve stolen my dog. I should warn you…he eats a ton and will insist on sleeping in bed with you.” Myka’s eyes were dancing with mirth, with that playfulness which had drawn Helena to her from the moment they met, yet there was a lingering nervousness there, an uncertainty about how they were supposed to do _this_.

Helena laughed softly, genuinely, “Well, I can’t say I would deny the company.”

The flush that washed from Myka’s cheeks down to her chest would have been evident to anyone near them, and Helena didn’t miss an inch of it. She realized, far too late, the implications of her words. Words she had meant to be _casual_ , meant to be _innocent_. They were talking about Trailer for gods sake. She hadn’t meant to _imply_ , and yet she had, and she knew that this would be part of the adjustment Wolly had talked about. She and Myka, somehow, inexplicably, had developed a certain _banter_ over the last six weeks and to shift that back into something that was innuendo, flirtation free would take some time. She passed a hand over her forehead, “God…Myka…”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Myka took a deep pull from her beer, cheeks still tinged pink.

Helena groaned, she’d already embarrassed herself, might as well just be honest, “I hate this. I hate that this feels awkward. I _don’t want it_ to feel awkward.”

“Neither do I, but…”

Before Myka could finish her sentence, Kelly’s voice was ringing across the backyard, “I declare it _game time_.”

“Oh God…” Myka half groaned, half sighed, “Apparently, we’ve hit that point in the night where we’ve all had more than enough to drink.”

“What is she talking about?” Helena asked.

Myka rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help her subtle smile, “Summer bonfire tradition…” She gestured a hand towards the fire, “Come on, you’ll just have to see.”

They all crowded around the fire, beer bottles clinking, their laughter and voices mixing and mingling together. Helena settled next to Wolly, directly across from Myka who was settled between Claudia and Steve. Wolly handed her a piece of paper without comment. She looked at it, “What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with this?”

“Ah, welcome to the fun, H.G.,” Pete called out to her, tugging his baseball hat off of his head and flipping it over so that it made a kind of basket. 

Kelly tossed a pen to H.G., “Everyone writes a question down, we put it in the hat, and everyone has to answer. There are no passes, no skips, no off-limits questions.”

Helena crinkled her forehead in question, “Are you serious? Don’t you all already know _everything_ about each other at this point?”

“Because of games like this…sadly, _yes_ ,” Steve commented.

Wolly slung an arm around her shoulder, “You’re one of us now, Hel. You are required to join our fun.”

“The last time I checked _fun_ was generally not a mandatory thing.”

“Oh Lord, on this Island that is really not the case.” Myka’s voice echoed across the fire as she shot Helena a playful wink.

Helena sighed, pulling the cap off of the pen, “You are all _bonkers_.”

“That will absolutely be confirmed once we’ve answered the questions I’m sure,” Todd stated without hesitation.

Pete’s hat was passed around the fire until it was filled with tiny slips of white paper. Wolly eyed Helena playfully, shaking the hat at her, “We’ll let you do the honors first.”

Helena rolled her eyes and pulled a slip out. When she read it, she once again felt her cheeks flood with red. Apparently, she was _doomed_ , completely and totally doomed. She let out an incredulous chuckle, “Some of you _really_ don’t hold back.”

“Read the question!” Claudia shouted.

Helena huffed softly, before clearing her throat, “‘Weirdest place you’ve had sex.’”

Laughter abounded around the fire which Helena was helpless to join, though she didn’t miss the look that flew across Myka’s face. She was certain it was the same look on her own face, a look that wondered why on earth the universe had it out for them tonight. She threw the slip of paper into the fire, “So, as the question asker, am I required to answer first?”

“That you are darlin’,” Wolly bumped her shoulder.

Helena thought for a brief moment, though she knew her answer instinctually. She avoided all eye contact with Myka, directing her answer to the fire, “The Capitol building.”

“What? As in like, _Congress? That_ Capitol building?” Claudia exclaimed.

“The very same.”

“Must have been one hell of a tour guide,” Kelly chimed in.

Helena arched an eyebrow playfully, “The question was just about the place, I don’t believe I’m required to answer the who or the how.”

“Spoil sport,” Kelly winked.

Todd groaned slightly, “I suppose it’s my turn.”

Fargo slapped him on the back, “’Atta boy Toddy. Let’s hear it.”

“A snow tunnel on campus,” Todd mumbled.

“So many cold jokes…” Pete pressed his fingers to his temples as if in an effort to hold all the aforementioned jokes in.

“I’m sorry did you say _snow tunnel_?” Helena asked aghast.

Todd nodded, “We get a ton of snow on campus and basically to make it easier, and honestly, _warmer_ for all of us to get to classes, they build snow tunnels across campus. Plus, it saves money on snow removal which would be impossible to keep up with.”

“They are really warm actually,” Claudia chimed in. “Though I’ve never tested if they stay _that_ warm, damn. Wait!” She paused, “Who the hell did you have sex with in a _snow tunnel_?”

Everyone could tell there was a slight edge to Claudia’s question, a bit of offense that she didn’t know about this and that she certainly wasn’t the one to have joined Todd in said _activities_. Todd’s ears went slightly pink, “I think I’m going to claim H.G.’s response and say that the question didn’t ask who with.”

Helena gripped a hand around his shoulder, “Solidarity, Todd. I’m with you one hundred percent.”

“Fargo, you’re up,” Pete called out.

Fargo’s eyes immediately darted inexplicably to Myka, his fingers toying with the label around his beer. He shifted in his seat, once again eyeing Myka, “I want immunity from being fired before I answer.”

“Oh God, _me too_ ,” Claudia piped up as if in sudden realization of what Fargo was going to say.

Myka’s head fell into her palm, “Do I even _want_ to know?”

“Probably not, Mykes, but those are the rules. Pony up the answers. Let’s hear ‘em.” The glee was evident in Pete’s voice.

“The stables.” Fargo spit it out so fast that they all almost missed it.

“Same,” Claudia nodded her head, immediately taking a long drink from the bottle in her hands.

“ _With each other?_ ” Kelly was laughing so hard she could barely get the question out.

“ _Again_ , there is no ‘with whom’ in the question,” Claudia said, before shooting a quick glance, a small smile at Todd. “Though…the answer is _no, not with each other_. That’s just a weird coincidence I think.”

Myka held up her hands, “Hold on a sec. So, you’re telling me that both of you _on separate occasions_ have had sex in the stables?” 

Claudia and Fargo both nodded with grimaces. Next to Myka, Steve casually commented, “Me too.”

Myka’s eyes were wide as she looked around at the three of them, before taking a drink of her beer with a shrug and playfully smirking, “Same.”

“Jesus Christ, _what goes on_ down there?” Wolly asked, a bit of shock laced through his voice.

Claudia was holding her stomach she was laughing so hard, gripping a hand around Myka’s shoulder, “I _cannot_ believe you.”

Myka shrugged again, her smile enigmatic as she made the barest amount of eye contact with Helena, “It’s good to know I can still surprise all of you.”

Across the fire, Helena mouthed, “Wicked” to Myka, who returned the gesture with a smile.

“So, Myka, are the stables your answer too?” Kelly asked.

“Oh no…that would definitely be a carriage.” Myka’s answer was so casual, so blasé that it took a second for all of them to register what she had said. 

Once it sunk in, everyone was attempting to talk at once, completely shocked that Myka would “sully one of her precious carriages,” as Pete put it. She played off the answer, finishing her beer and nudging Steve’s shoulder, “You’re up, partner.”

Steve chuckled, “Since the stables answer is already out there, I’ll give another but it is wildly dull. Back of a car. That’s all I’ve got.”

Pete leaned over and scratched a hand over Steve’s head, “Someone has to keep us respectable, Steve-O.”

“That’s not possible,” Wolly stated matter-of-factly.

Kelly glanced around the fire with a wicked smile, “Are all of you sure you even _want_ Pete and I’s answer?”

“No!” The answer was a cacophony of an echo around the fire.

Pete smiled smugly, putting an arm around Kelly’s arm, “Hey, hey, hey…can’t have us embarrassing the children.”

Wolly rolled his eyes, “To save us from _whatever_ might be coming next, I’ll go. A golf course, and that is the _only_ detail you’re getting.”

Helena looked at Wolly in question, “Do I know that story?”

“Emily…”

“Ah yes, I _do_ know that story.”

Wolly darted a hand across Helena’s mouth, “And _you_ are going to be the _only one_ to know that story. So, moving on!”

The hat made its way slowly around the fire with questions ranging from embarrassing to exceedingly tame. They all ended up giving Helena a world of grief for the innocence of the question which she had obviously put in the hat. 

“Favorite dessert? Really, Hel? Just nailing us with the hard hitting questions.”

“It’s an honest question!”

“It’s a _boring_ question,” Wolly teased.

“Well, there has to be some decorum around this fire.”

“ _Never_.”

Helena didn’t care how much they teased. All she cared about was that she got the answer she was looking for, the answer Myka _knew_ she was hunting for. When it was her turn, Myka playfully rolled her eyes at Helena, “I answer this question under protest, just so you know. You’re _cheating_.”

“I’m not cheating. I’m using the situation to my advantage.”

“ _Cheating_.”

“Just answer the question, darling.”

Claudia’s eyes darted between them, “I think we’re missing something.”

“We are and that’s probably not a bad thing,” Steve commented.

Myka sighed, “ _Fine_. Cherry cobbler. Happy?”

“Delighted,” Helena winked.

By the time they got to the “most embarrassing moment” question, they all were so far into their drinks that it took almost an hour to get around the fire for all of their answers. It was only once they reached the last question that the raucous nature of the game ebbed. 

Wolly unfolded the piece of paper in his hands and let out a low whistle, “Oh we’re ending on a serious note. ‘What’s your greatest fear?’”

Helena’s eyes caught Myka’s once again across the fire. They’d all been trying to deduce who had put what question in and Helena was fairly certain that this one was Myka’s. Myka met her gaze evenly, not betraying an ounce of what she was thinking.

Wolly tossed the paper into the fire, “Let the mocking commence, but spiders.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “That was a cheap answer, William. I’m sure the questioner was looking for something a little _deeper_.” She shot a sidelong glance to Myka whose face remained passive.

“Well, give us your _depth_ then, Hel.”

Helena let out a slow breath, “I would say…my greatest fear is going through my life and never truly being content. Not just happy…but _content_.”

She knew Myka would catch the subtlety of the answer, the veiled reference to their many conversations about Myka’s life here, about Helena’s life in D.C. She knew Myka would know _exactly_ what she was talking about.

The others answered with a proper mixture of playfulness and seriousness, but Helena didn’t listen to any of their answers, not truly. She just wanted to hear Myka’s answer. When it was her turn, Myka didn’t hesitate, just answered simply, eyes never leaving Helena’s, “My greatest fear is living my life with _too much_ fear, so much fear that it holds me back.”

**

The fire was slowly starting to die, but the conversation continued to race around it with no sign of ceasing. Helena watched as Myka idly ran her fingers through Trailer’s fur where he was passed out across her feet. Suddenly, she felt like she just needed to _breathe_ , to not be in such close proximity to this easiness, to this comfort, to this _feeling of home_. She stood carefully, hand resting on Wolly’s shoulder, “I’m going to go get some air.”

Wolly idly patted her hand, seeming to _know_ what she was saying, what she really needed, “We’ll still be here when you get back.”

Across the fire, Myka watched the exchange, watched Helena walk towards the front of the house. She hesitated for only a few seconds before carefully extracting herself from Trailer’s weight and following in Helena’s footsteps, not caring what anyone thought about both of them disappearing. 

When she reached the front of the house, she found Helena in the same place she had found her that first night, sitting on the porch rail in clear contemplation of the stars. She climbed the steps without saying a word, taking the same position she had taken that night, nestled on the opposite side of the rail, knees tucked up to her chin. They didn’t say anything at first, just watched the sky, ignored that they were trying to _not watch_ each other. Finally, Helena’s voice cracked into the deafening silence, “I don’t want it to be like this.”

Myka didn’t hedge, didn’t question, just responded, “Neither do I, but I’m not really sure what else to do…”

Helena sighed, pushing her hair back from her face, finally turning to face Myka, “I don’t want to spend the rest of the summer avoiding each other, or pretending like none of this has happened.”

Myka tipped her head back against the beam supporting her back, her fingers tangled up and fiddling with each other. Her head was ringing with the words Jane had said to her, about not giving up, about Bering’s not throwing things away this easily. She steeled herself to wrap her tongue around the words she was about to say, knowing they would sound possibly ridiculous and most likely risky, “Then who says we have to? There’s no reason we _should be_ avoiding each other. There’s no reason we can’t be friends, Helena.”

“I thought we’d had this conversation before,” Helena chuckled softly. “Do you really think we’re capable of _friendship_ , Myka?”

“We’ll never know if we don’t give it a try, and I’m willing if you are, because you’re right, I don’t want to go this whole summer not seeing you.”

“So what do you suggest?”

Myka shrugged, “I don’t know really. We just…we see each other, we do _friend_ things. We could bike, we could hike, have coffee…”

Helena gave her a scrutinizing look, an idea blossoming in her mind, “The Lilac Festival is this week…”

“It is…”

“Well, how about we attempt this _friend_ thing with that. I have Thursday afternoon off. If you might be up for stealing away from your apparently aphrodisiac laden stables, we could walk around. You could show me more of the wonders of your beloved Island.”

Deep down, Myka knew that sounded like something so much more than _friendly_ , but she also knew she wanted it, didn’t want to run from it. Deep down, she knew this could be what Jane meant about not pushing, but not giving up. She smiled softly, “I’m sure I could pull myself away for a bit.”

“Wonderful. So Thursday it is.”

“Thursday,” Myka nodded. 

They were silent again for a few moments, until Helena’s laughter broke through the quiet, “Just how many people do you think have had sex in your place of employment?”

Myka’s laughter was rich and warm, “I doubt any of us really want to know.”

“Did you know? About Claudia? Fargo?”

Myka rolled her eyes, “Of course I did, just don’t tell them that. They’d be _horrified_.”

“I think they were more horrified that you were a member of the sex in the stables club…”

“I am a well of surprises.”

“That you are. So…what would it take for the details of _that_ particular story.”

Myka chuckled, shooting Helena a quick wink, “There aren’t enough desserts in your arsenal, Nerd.”

“We’ll see about that, wicked one.”

“I welcome your best efforts. We’ll see who wins that one.”

“Yes,” Helena grinned, “yes, we will.”

**

They eventually wound their way back towards the backyard, to the fire, to the company, to the laughter that was continuing to echo through the night air. They settled themselves back into their positions around the fire, but this time neither of them were shy or avoidant of making eye contact. This time their smiles, their sidelong glances passed between them without hesitation, without comment. 

Watching Helena smile, hearing her laugh, seeing the way the light from the fire danced across her face with a haunting kind of grace, of beauty, Myka felt something stir deep in her stomach. It wasn’t desire, not necessarily, it was something akin to want, and what she wondered might just be…hope.


	7. Definitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka and Helena do their best at attempting the friend thing...it works, it doesn't work, it's immensely complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh the angst-filled consequences of trying to be friends with someone you continually throw heart-eyes at...  
> Thanks to everyone for all the comments...I hope Mackinac continues to show you its charms.
> 
> Always, a huge thanks to @MuddyPuppy for the beta (especially with this beast of a chapter)

When Myka got home the next night and found another box from the Grand on her porch she was convinced that she knew what was inside. Part of her had actually been anticipating the gesture after the conversation around the fire the night before. She knew that she had made it too easy on Helena, had walked directly into precisely what Helena had been aiming for with her question, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie about her answer, and if she was being honest, she had to give Helena credit. Helena could have used the situation to an even deeper advantage, used it to find out something else entirely, something more personal, something _more_ , rather than just what Myka’s favorite dessert was, something that Myka was certain she would have figured out by the end of the summer anyway. 

It had given Myka a strange sort of thrill though, to have that be Helena’s question, because while to everyone else it seemed like a tame question, one written in the name of _decorum_ , she knew its real intention, the hidden meaning behind the innocence. Having that small sort of secret, something that was shared between just the two of them, something that everyone else around that fire had been completely oblivious to, it had made Myka feel like they had something that was _theirs_. She couldn’t quite explain it, the odd mixture of comfort and clandestine excitement that had raced through her system at their back and forth while the rest of the group had looked on in question and uncertainty. To have something so tangibly their own felt like _they_ were something. Something more than just two _friends_ sitting around a fire, more than just two people who had this one little inside joke, more than just two people who were orbiting each other’s lives for these few brief moments. 

She waited until she was inside to open the box, feeling not a small sense of disappointment that she already _knew_ what was in the box. That had become part of the fun for her in this little dance they were doing, that moment right before she opened the box when she had no idea what was coming, that moment of wondering what this particular volley of Helena’s would look like this time, wondering how much impact it would have against her alleged anti-sugar walls. More than anything, she looked forward to whatever message accompanied the offering; it was always coy, teasing, so very _Helena_. She would never admit it, but she had taken to keeping the post-its, burrowing them away inside whatever book she was reading at the time, as though she was scattering little Helena Easter eggs around her house, to be found at just the right time, the right moment. She found herself tracing back through the pages long since read just to find the notes, remember their wording, the way some of them seemed like they were written in haste, some with more intensive thought. She knew, deep down, that at the end of the season, those post-it notes would end up spelling out a timeline for her of their time together, leaving her with something tangible to cling to, even if, and when, Helena disappeared. For that, for these small little pieces of paper and what she knew they would someday represent, she was thankful. To keep getting those notes she would endure any and all the sugar she needed to, for however long Helena was willing to keep breaking down her walls.

When she finally sunk onto the couch and opened the box, her jaw dropped. She’d been excited, anticipating what she was _convinced_ was inside, looking forward to having it as the perfect finishing touch to her dinner. Yet, inside was not cherry cobbler, but rather a small plate of brownies that seemed to be frosted with peanut butter icing. She picked one up and took a bite, her tongue immediately greeted with the delicate melting of peanut butter chips inside the batter as well. She couldn’t deny they were delicious; she was beginning to wonder if anything Helena made was ever going to be anything _but_ delicious, yet…it didn’t make sense. Helena had the perfect opportunity right there in front of her, and she’d passed it up.

Myka sat the box down on the table, pushing it far enough to the center so that Trailer couldn’t get inside of it, and finally allowed herself to pry the post-it note from inside the lid of the box. This note was one that had clearly been written carefully, intentionally, as if each word mattered intimately.

_You’re surprised, I know. You’re wondering what on earth I am thinking. Yet this thing, you and sugar, you and me and sugar, it’s a long game, Myka, and it doesn’t matter that I might have an ace in my hand at the moment. What matters is that I play that card at the right time. ~H_

Immediately, Myka pulled her phone out of her pocket, fingers already typing out a message before she paused. This, responding like _this_ , hastily and off the cuff, it was what Helena would be expecting. _It’s a long game_. Myka smirked to herself, tossing her phone to the side and finishing her brownie as she moved to the kitchen to make her dinner. Helena would have to wait for a response. If she was treating this like a game, well then it was high time Myka started playing it too.

**

Myka waited, waited until she wondered if Helena might already be asleep, waited until she, herself, was climbing into bed, her muscles already limp with sleep, though her mind was wide awake, still spinning with how exactly to _play_ this. Eventually, she just let her fingers type without much forethought.

_You realize that you run the risk of everything you leave me failing to live up to expectations because now I’ll always be expecting THE thing. Doesn’t that run counterproductive to your plans?_

Helena was apparently still entirely awake because Myka’s phone immediately showed that she was typing. Myka silently hoped that maybe she was still up because she was waiting for this particular conversation. 

_Ah but you see now I have you ANTICIPATING. No matter what you’ll be excited about what’s in the box now. Tell me…have you ever been that excited about dessert…ever?_

_Short of my…eighth…birthday party. I don’t think so._

_See? My plan has worked…is working. You, Myka Bering, are looking forward to sugar. Perish the thought._

_What if I just stop eating whatever is in the box until I get what I want? What if you wildly underestimated my stubbornness?_

_All part of the game, darling. It’s no fun if I just win automatically. I never expected that you wouldn’t put up a fight.  
What was so special about your eighth birthday?_

_You’re changing the subject…_

_Possibly…maybe I’m just being courteous, curious, asking about a topic you willingly brought up?_

_I don’t buy that tone for a second._

_You’re learning to withstand my charm…whatever shall I do?_

_I thought you said it wasn’t fun if I didn’t put up a fight…_

_True…_

This wasn’t friendship. It was all Myka could think as she felt her cheeks flush at the easy flirtation, the teasing back and forth. This wasn’t normal for two people who were just trying to be friends. This was normal for two people who were desperately trying to pretend they didn’t want each other, and failing miserably. 

_So again I ask…what was so special about your eighth birthday?_

Myka rolled her eyes even while a steady warmth that she was starting to associate solely with Helena spread through her muscles. She loved that Helena always seemed so curious. She loved that she seemed to _care_ about these things, that she asked about even the slightest detail.

_There was this ice cream parlor in my hometown that we only ever went to on really special occasions and they made these incredible ice cream cakes. My sister and I always wanted one, but they were expensive and my parents always said no, that there was no reason for them. When I turned eight, all I said I wanted was an ice cream cake, but my parents pretended like it wasn’t going to happen. At my party, right in the middle of it, my mom walked out with that cake and it was…amazing. It was everything I imagined. My parents weren’t always big on gestures like that…but that time…for that one birthday…_

_I really want to say something about now knowing that ice cream seems to be the way to your heart…however…_

_However…sappy childhood stories seem to be kryptonite to your charm huh?_

_It seems so.  
Kryptonite…look at you showing your inner nerd, wicked one._

_I have my moments._

_Well then, before I go to bed, a bit of a nerd test then.  
What would you say if I told you that a brownie for breakfast is a lovely, one might even say, magical, option?_

Myka considered the question for a few moments, her mind racing through every pop culture reference she could muster until finally…

_I’d say that if you tell me you like Practical Magic, I will demand a movie night in October.  
I’d also say that your brownies? Absolutely breakfast material. I may have a peanut butter weakness…_

_Something I’ll have to remember…  
And the movie night? It’s a date. Good night Myka._

_G’night nerd._

Myka sat her phone on her nightstand with a sigh. They could pretend that this wasn’t happening, they could claim that they were friends, that this was easy and possible and _not at all complicated_. However, if they kept talking like that? Their whole “friends” charade was going to come crashing down around them quicker than either of them possibly could have imagined.

**

By Wednesday, Myka was certain that she had never felt this _exhausted_ during a season. It was true that every summer she was busy and running on far too little sleep, but _never_ had she felt this bone-deep sense of exhaustion, this weak-kneed wanting to just curl up in her bed and not come out of the house for days weariness. Usually she reached that point by the end of October, when the season was for all intents and purposes _over_ , usually by then the hours and all the pulled muscles and stress would catch up to her and she would realize that she _should have been exhausted_ , but it was always an afterthought. It had never been a _current thought_ , it had never been her state of being during the summer. Part of her wondered if it was just that she was getting older, her body sending her signals that this job and all of its attendant strain came with a certain price and she would need to adapt. However, the rest of her, the rational part of her knew that was a lie, a convenient excuse to ignore the real reason behind her exhaustion. This exhaustion wasn’t physical. This exhaustion was completely and entirely emotional. This exhaustion was Helena Wells induced. 

She spent so much of her time trying to _not_ think, ignoring things, pretending that everything was normal, acting like her life was moving through the summer at its usual pace, while inside her muscles were constantly tense, her neurons firing faster than they should all in an attempt to _forget_. The amount of time she spent convincing herself that she wasn’t thinking about Helena only made her think about her more, causing a vicious cycle around her mind, spinning her in circles and leaving her here…exhausted.

The bell outside the stable doors rang out its echo through the entire building, a nightly signal rung by the last carriage driver back indicating that the day was _done_ , all the horses were back and in one piece, maybe still needing to be cleaned up, but for the most part the work of the last twelve to fifteen hours was finished. Usually Myka stayed until the last pieces of the day were completed, until the last horse was cleaned and stabled, until the last intern had clocked out, until there was nothing in the stables but her own breathing and the rustle of the horses settling in for the night. Tonight though, tonight her exhaustion was going to win. She shut down her computer, closed up the books, and draped her bag across her shoulders. She was going to go home, eat something _healthy_ , read her book, and crash, without thinking about anything else.

It was a pleasant story to tell herself. It was something to cling to for however long it lasted, for however long this particular instance of ignoring how petrified she was about tomorrow lingered. She knew the truth of what would happen. She’d go home, she’d eat dinner and _another damn brownie_ , attempt to read her book, only get through a few pages, and then go and lie in bed, mind racing about whatever was going to happen the next day. 

She left the stables through the back, at least giving herself the peace of mind that she had walked the halls, checked on every horse, every last detail of the night. When she exited into the back grounds, the sound of laughter and cascading water trickled into her ears. She meandered behind the building, knowing that laughter, knowing that sound, knowing that she might have found the one thing that might distract her, that might help her muscles ease. She found Claudia soaked from head to toe as she attempted to wash Tesla and Farnsworth down. They were apparently _not in the mood_ for the nightly ritual however, each of them swinging their heads back and forth playfully, seeming to enjoy how much they were frustrating Claudia. 

Warm laughter eased through Myka’s throat, tugging her away from her exhaustion, from any thought of Helena. She dropped her bag against the building and called out to Claudia, “Need a hand there, Claud?”

Claudia drew back with a grimace as another slosh of water soaked her face. “ _Tesla_ ,” she gritted out between clenched teeth, “You’re cute, but you’re a pain in the ass.” She tossed her hands up in the air, cascading even more water and suds onto her head, eliciting a groan that drifted into a soft chuckle, “I think I need multiple hands.”

Myka walked over, drawing right up in front of the boys who were so pleased to see her that they shook their heads even more, sufficiently soaking her as much as Claudia. She rolled her eyes, idly tossing her button up off of her shoulders, reveling in the feeling of the late day sun dappling her bare shoulders. Her hands rose up to rub against both Farnsworth and Tesla’s noses, feeling them nudge immediately into her touch. A breath flooded out of her lungs at the feeling, a breath that felt like she had been holding from the moment she had walked onto that damn porch at the party. For the first time in _weeks_ , practically in months, she felt at ease. She nestled her head against Tesla’s with a laugh, not caring that she would end up sudsy and soaked, “Are you boys giving Claud a hard time?”

Farnsworth let out a loud, playful whiney, causing Claudia to groan, “You trained them to do this, didn’t you? To harass me?”

“Oh yes, Claud. I made sure they knew how to push all of your buttons before I handed over the reins.”

Claudia chuckled, rubbing down Tesla’s back legs, being extra careful and diligent around the muscles of his right leg, which had continued to tighten up and need massaged every morning. Kelly hadn’t expressed much concern about it, despite Myka’s rampant worry, giving her the assurance that as long as Claudia stretched him out every morning and evening then he’d be fine. Myka eyed Claudia’s movements, unease creeping back in, “How has he been?”

“You mean since you asked me this morning before we left?”

Myka rolled her eyes, “I will help them dump more water on you.”

Claudia just shook her head with a grin, “He’s fine. _Perfect_ , actually. He’s strong, Myka. I think he’s just gotten in the habit of sleeping funny and it’s wreaking havoc on his muscles that’s all. He hasn’t had any problems, and you know I would tell you if he had.”

Myka sighed heavily, “I know..sorry, Claud. I just..”

“Worry, I know. It’s all good, boss. I’m taking good care of your boys, despite how much they enjoy pissing me off.”

They continued to wash them down in relative silence. Myka basking in the normalcy of the act, of the contentedness at having something _tangible_ to do. She missed this part of the work. Now that she was in charge she didn’t get as much one on one, hands on time with the horses, and she missed the physicality of that, the odd kind of assurance she got from feeling their muscles working underneath her hands, of feeling their strength, their solidity. It grounded her in a way nothing else could and she suddenly realized she shouldn’t allow herself to neglect her need for that just because she was busy with paperwork.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Claudia’s voice echoed around them out of nowhere, a little hesitant, wavering slightly.

Myka gave her a questioning glance across Tesla’s neck, “Sure, anything.”

“So…let’s say… _hypothetically_ …that Todd and I…that Todd and I were a _thing_. How exactly would you tell Fargo that, if you were me, or _us, hypothetically_?” Claudia’s eyes didn’t meet Myka’s the entire time she spoke, remaining adamantly focused on the movements of her hands against Tesla’s mane.

Silently, Myka was thankful for the lack of eye contact because she knew Claudia would see her shock, her surprise, the realization that deep down Myka had _known_. She took a deep breath, considering, “Well…I think…I think that the three of you have been friends for a long time and I think the three of you always knew that this would work its way out and it would always leave someone on the outside. I think that you all know each other freakishly well and since that’s the case…Fargo probably already knows.”

“I hate that. Not the being close thing, I love that. I hate that you’re right, that he _does_ probably know, because I don’t want him to _know_ that way, without us talking about it. I don’t want him to feel like he can’t ask, I don’t want to feel like I can’t just talk to him, but I also don’t want to break his heart.”

“I think that’s a bit of a false hope, Claud. One of them was always going to get hurt. They’ve both carried this flame for you for so long…”

“I know…” Claudia sighed with a slight sniffle, “I just need to tell him, and it’s not like I don’t _care_ about Fargo. He’s a crazy weirdo and my best friend, but I think deep down I always knew it’d be Todd.”

“Again I say, I’d bet Fargo knows that too. Just be honest with him, why your friendship means so much to him, why you don’t want to lose that, and then maybe just keep the PDA to a minimum around him and I’m sure you three will be back to normal in no time.”

“I want him to be happy, you know? I mean I don’t expect him to be happy _for us_ , because that’s kind of cruel, but I want him to be _happy_.”

“I get that…Jesus…I really, really get that. I just think you have to expect that some things will probably change…with your friendship…when feelings are involved…something’s gotta give, ya know?” A pang twisted in Myka’s stomach, knowing her words were meant for herself just as much as they were meant for Claudia. Her and Helena, Claudia, Todd, and Fargo, it was all always going to be messy and complicated and disastrous. Friendship knotted and twisted around feelings always was.

There must have been something in her voice, something written across her face because suddenly Claudia was eyeing her carefully, trying to read what wasn’t there on the surface and asking, “You ok, boss?”

Lies, deflections, distractions rose up on Myka’s tongue, dangled there, so easy to just spit out, ignoring the truth, but she swallowed them down. Claudia had confided in her, Claudia trusted her, and there was no reason for Myka to not do the same. Talking to Claudia was almost easier than talking to anyone else anyway, she was more discerning than Pete, less ruled by their emotional entanglements, and she was just as considerate as Steve, though more willing to be straight up and honest with her. Myka leaned over and pressed a kiss to Tesla’s wet, soapy nose, before shifting towards Farnsworth, speaking with her back to Claudia, “I’m kind of in the same boat as you, I guess. Friendship and feelings…”

“Yeah…how is that working out for you and other half of Team Bering and Wells?”

Incredulous laughter raked through Myka’s lungs, “Who came up with that one?”

“Yours truly, if you must know.” Claudia turned and gave Myka a tiny, mock bow, “I consider myself captain of that team. Solidly, pro Bering and Wells over here.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’re the _only one_.”

“Uh…definitely not. Between me, Todd, Fargo, Wolly, and Kelly? That’s a lot of people in your corner.”

“While the support is appreciated, I’m not sure it really matters when one half of the _team itself_ isn’t exactly on board.”

Claudia shifted to lean against Farnsworth, making sure that Myka saw every second of her exaggerated eye roll, “You’re kidding, right? Unless you’re telling me that _you’re_ the one that isn’t on board with this, I have no idea what you’re talking about, because trust me, H.G. has got it _bad_ , like pathetically bad. It’s adorable.”

Myka tilted her head back with a groan, “And you see _this_ is the problem! Because sure, she might be _head over heels_ , but it doesn’t fucking matter because we’re not going to do anything about it. We’re going to be _friends_ , do _friend_ things, because apparently the new healthy thing to do is ignore everything.”

“She said that? That she wants to ignore it?” Claudia’s forehead was knit with the incredulity her voice betrayed.

“Not in so many words, but basically, and it’s not just her, Claud. I agreed to this. Jesus, I _suggested_ it, because the idea of _not_ being with her at all this summer was intolerable, so I said the first and stupidest thing that came into my mind. Which, what the hell was I thinking? I don’t know how to do that, to do _this_ , to just see her and hang out with her and act like nothing has happened, pretend that every damn time I see her I don’t fall just a little bit more. It’s insane. It’s fucking insane to try and operate with that much dissonance in your head. _I don’t know how to do this_ , divorce myself from how I feel about her.” Myka’s forehead came to rest against Farnsworth’s neck, the warmth of him, the scent of his hair offering her a small semblance of comfort in the midst of the chaos.

The pressure of fingertips around her shoulder was enough to pull Myka’s attention, cause her to turn her forehead to meet Claudia’s hesitant, but open smile. Claudia shrugged, “Listen, Myka, I am the last person to be dispensing relationship advice or analyzing feelings, but here’s what I’ll say. You two? It’s been glaringly evident since pretty much day one that there was something there, and I get that it’s complicated and that there are a lot of factors and so I can see how you would think that it’s safer to just keep your distance, but…maybe…maybe this is all part of it, part of figuring it out. Maybe you have to try the _friend thing_ to realize that being friends is, you’re right, the _stupidest thing_ you two could do. I think you just have to see where all of this takes you. Don’t force it, just see what happens.”

Myka lapsed into a momentary silence, her mind trying to wrap its way around everything Claudia had said, how true every piece of it was. She considered the question she wanted to ask, wondered if it was too private, until throwing caution to the wind and just spitting it out, “How…how’d you know it was Todd? I mean, I’ll admit I was always rooting that way, but Steve always figured it’d be Fargo. So…how…” 

A secretive, whimsical smile tugged at the corner of Claudia’s mouth, “In a lot of ways, the two of them are extremely similar, but I don’t know…Todd…Todd just kind of has this way of making me feel…warm and understood and seen. He knows when to push me and when to hold back. Fargo and I, we’re too much alike I think. Todd will call me on my bullshit and tease me and comfort me, sometimes all within the same five minutes. Fargo just tends to tell me what I want to hear…”

Unconsciously, Myka’s mind tugged back across all the conversations she’d had with Helena, how she’d never felt like she had to defend herself or explain what she was thinking. _Understood and seen_. Somehow, that’s exactly how she had felt around Helena from day one, from minute, second one. She hoped, foolishly, ardently hoped that she had made Helena feel the same way, that Helena _did_ feel the same way around her.

Claudia’s fingers squeezed around her shoulder again, “Can I point out just one tiny thing?”

Myka felt her shoulders deflate a bit, figuring that now would be the time that Claudia spouted out all the reasons she already knew for why this was a bad idea, Team Bering and Wells or not. She sighed, “Shoot.”

“You’re doing the whole Lilac Festival thing tomorrow right? I think Steve mentioned that you were taking part of the day off…”

Myka nodded slowly, wondering where this was going.

Claudia smirked playfully, “Ok…so I’m just going to say it. Adjusting your day off to go and do _friend things_ probably says way more about how very much _beyond friendly_ you two are…”

Myka felt her cheeks pink slightly, “Ok, yeah, but Helena doesn’t…”

“Oh Myka,” Claudia laughed delicately, “she knows you. She knows your schedule and that you don’t just get a day off like that. _She knows_ , and if she hasn’t changed your plans then she’s _really happy_ that she knows.”

They finished washing the boys in relative quiet, each of them seemingly caught up in their own thoughts, turning over everything the other had said. When they both left for the night, when Claudia wrapped Myka in a tight hug and whispered, “Thank you,” and “You’ve got this,” Myka was fairly certain that never in her life had she ever been more thankful for Claudia. 

Myka was able to follow her plans for the night with only slight detractions. She did eventually go home. She did eat a healthy dinner, though she did allow herself to eat a small corner of one more brownie afterwards. She did read for far longer than she had in days. She didn’t pace, she didn’t let her thoughts race, she didn’t try to talk herself out of anything. She just slept. She slept knowing that she had, somehow, in the course of the night reconciled herself to the fact that everything she was doing, the festival, the days off, the _friend thing_ , all of it was done with the hope of building something with Helena. She slept hoping that Claudia was right, that Helena _did_ know all of that and that maybe she felt the same way, that maybe she was trying to build this too.

**

“I haven’t decided if I’m talking to you yet,” Myka remarked casually as she strolled down to where Helena was waiting for her on the sidewalk in front of the Grand.

Helena idly leaned against the sign listing the rules for admittance to the hotel, arching an eyebrow delicately, “You know that simply by saying that you have proven your statement inaccurate?”

Myka shrugged with a smirk, walking past Helena and down towards the street which was lined with nothing but purple, the blooms of the lilacs bursting into view at every turn, the smell of them overwhelming everything around them. 

The sound of a mild huff followed by the quick patter of footsteps betrayed Helena’s impatience to keep up, to get immediately in lockstep with Myka’s long strides. She bumped a shoulder against Myka’s, “I suppose I will tolerate your silence as long as you give me one sentence, one sentence explaining _why_ you are going to possibly remain adamantly quiet despite the fact that we’re supposed to be spending the afternoon together.”

Myka smirked, “I’ll give you one word: _cobbler_.”

Helena burst out with joyous, highly amused laughter, “I feel the need to point out you still gave me a sentence.” At Myka’s eye roll, Helena merely continued to chuckle, “I told you, you’ll get your cobbler. You must be _patient_.”

“Patience be damned. You, Nerd, got my hopes up and then shattered them to the ground.”

“Oh yes, so very shattered, shattered amongst peanut butter and chocolate. Shattered amongst sugar you have claimed you hold no particular affinity for. Are you admitting surrender? Is this you telling me that I _have_ lured you to the dark side in such a short period of time?”

A small dash of pink tinged Myka’s cheeks, “I will admit no such thing. I remain as stalwart as ever.”

“I’ll believe you, but you must answer one question. How many brownies remain in your house?”

The pink in Myka’s cheeks deepened, her voice a faint, embarrassed whisper, “None.”

A pleased smirk pulled at Helena’s lips, but she didn’t say anything else, satisfied with the revelation of that one word. 

Myka sighed, slowing their steps to better take in the scenery that cascaded down both sides of the street. She shoved her hands into her pockets, “I _suppose_ it isn’t exactly _friendly_ to ignore you, so I’m changing the subject.”

“The subject _you_ brought up.”

“Irrelevant. How’s work? How are the teas going?”

Helena’s smirk shifted into a contented smile, “They’ve been going wonderfully, actually. We didn’t expect much of a response, but after the first one went well, the desk was flooded with reservation requests and now we are completely booked solid for them.”

Myka’s eyes widened, utterly impressed, “Look at you, bringing new traditions into The Grand Hotel. With that much success, they might never let you leave.” The words escaped Myka’s mouth without much thought, certainly without any consideration of the _consequences_ of those words, of the implication they might cause, of the forward thinking it would push them towards.

Thankfully, Helena took the words in with a steady gaze, without any hint of shying away from what they might imply or the conversation they might drive them towards. She smiled lightly, “Trust me, I think Wolly is considering locking me in the kitchen.”

“Can you blame him? He loves having you here and you’re kicking ass at your job. You’re making Wolly’s kitchens look even better than they did before. Just don’t tell him I said that…”

“I would never…” Helena smiled enigmatically, almost triumphantly. A tiny sigh pushed past her lips, though Myka couldn’t read its tone, “My other business partner might not be as impressed with such a decision though.”

Myka’s brows knit in concern and consideration, “Things aren’t going quite as smoothly in DC, I take it.”

Helena’s fingertips danced across her forehead in irritation, “I just left a lot of work piled at his feet. He found a temporary replacement of course, but, well…I don’t exactly want to boast, but I left rather large shoes to fill. While reservations here are a mile long, reservations back home are apparently waning.”

Myka grimaced involuntarily, “Are you worried? I mean that seems like kind of a big deal…”

“We have come through slow periods before and survived. My sabbatical isn’t forever. People know that. If anything my absence will most likely _increase_ our reservations once I return, so it might end up working in our favor.”

The words rang hollow and definitive in Myka’s ears. There was no question to them, no hedging, but the simple fact of the matter that no matter how much Helena enjoyed her time here, no matter how well she did at the Grand, this was _temporary_. Her life was simply on hold, taking a few months to pause, to restore whatever had faltered in her _regular life_ in DC. There were few things that could have brought Myka into the cold reality of their _friendship_ quite like the sentiments Helena had just expressed. She willed herself not to care, to ignore the pulse of longing that was echoing around her chest. Maybe she needed to give up this foolish hope. Maybe she needed to resign herself to her fate, _their_ fate…friendship…a few more measly months of friendship.

“Myka?”

Her name pulled Myka out of the apparent silent reverie she had escaped into. She felt Helena’s fingertips gripping around her forearm, and she turned to find Helena eyeing her carefully, with a delicate discernment. Myka tired to muster a self-conscious laugh, her hand rubbing at her neck, “Sorry…” She cleared her throat, “Did you ask me something?”

Helena watched her with a critical eye for a few more moments before seeming to decide that it was better to move on from where she clearly knew Myka’s mind had taken her. Her fingers lingered on Myka’s arm for a few more seconds before she continued, “I was asking you how Tesla was…

“Oh! Oh, he’s good…I mean, he’s still waking up a little stiff, but Kelly has assured me a million times over that it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“So naturally you remain ardently concerned…” Helena gave Myka a small wink accompanied by a trickle of laughter.

Myka sighed, but couldn’t help herself from laughing along with Helena, “ _Naturally_.”

“You have warned me about your stubbornness. If it manifests with something you are so noncommittal about such as sugar, I anticipated that when it came to your boys it would emerge quite forcefully.”

“I think that’s putting it mildly actually.”

“Were you always like this…vigorously attached to your animals? To your horses?”

“Wow…no,” Myka’s laughter grew with a hint of self-deprecation. “I used to be terrified of them when I was little. Not all animals, but the horses. I mean they’re big, and when you’re little they seem gigantic. I was always worried they’d step on me, which is ridiculous, but logic wasn’t my strong suit at five.”

“What changed?”

“Just being up here more. Pap would push me a little bit every visit, until I was comfortable, content, at my happiest when I was around them.”

“I very much would have liked to have met your grandfather. He sounds like he was an incredible man.”

“He was…” Myka quickly caught herself before she could say anything more, turning a considering look to Helena, “Ya know…every time we’re together I end up just spilling my guts about all my personal stuff, my history, but you still haven’t given _me_ any answers.”

Helena smirked, though there was something a bit haunted behind it, “You’ve figured out my master plan, I take it? To find out everything about you and reveal nothing of myself.”

“That plan stops now.”

“Is this where you ask me for a little quid pro quo?”

Myka’s eyes danced with a glint of danger, of intrigue, “Or I could just be being courteous, being _curious_ about your life. Isn’t that the excuse you used on me the other night?”

Helena rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, “You remember everything.”

Myka tapped a finger against her temple, “Eidetic memory.” She smiled warmly, gently nudging their shoulders together again, “I am curious though, legitimately curious about your life. I feel like I somehow know very little about you.”

“Well…what do you want to know?” Helena asked with a shade of hesitation. She wasn’t used to this, to people wondering, let alone _caring_ , about her life. Other than Wolly, there were very few people who truly _knew_ her, and she liked it that way. She liked keeping some things to herself, keeping some things private, personal. Yet, with Myka…there was something nudging her forward, willing her to talk, to tell, to invite Myka in, because deep down she wanted Myka to _know_ , she wanted Myka to _> see_ her.

“Do you really want to give me that much leeway with my questions?” Helena simply smiled and shrugged, leaving the ball in Myka’s court. Idly, Myka let her fingers drift skyward, trickling through the blossoms above their heads, reveling in the way the movement scattered the blossoms’ fragrance around their shoulders. She didn’t want to push, not too much, at least not at first, “Tell me about your restaurant.”

A wistful smile overtook Helena’s face, “It was a true labor of love. We wanted to do something different, which in DC is a heady task. We wanted it to be upscale but relaxed, a place people could come after work for a drink or for a dinner meeting. It’s comfort food mostly, but with the right amount of flash, of quirk as my partner likes to call it. We take things you know and turn them on their head a bit.”

“How long have you been open?”

“Five years, going on six…” Helena couldn’t help that the words left her with a certain heaviness.

“That sounded less like a joyful answer and more like a prison sentence.”

Helena sighed, debating her answer, feeling her mind tug towards openness, complete honesty, “The last six months or so…they’ve been a struggle. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve been successful, but as I told you before, that success has come with certain expectations. People want something flashy, they want an _experience_ , and well…it’s become a bit less _fun_. When we were still unknown, flying below the radar, all of the chaos and work was worth it, but now, it’s become…cumbersome.”

“Is that why you came up here?”

“Partly. I needed a break…from a great many things, but the restaurant was one of them. I needed to clear my head, get some perspective. Nate, that’s my business partner, hoped it would restore my excitement for it.”

“Has it worked?” Myka was genuinely curious. Hearing the struggle, the weariness in Helena’s words had caused a pang of sympathy to resound within her. It was true her job was exhausting, but she couldn’t imagine no longer feeling passionate about it. She couldn’t imagine how demoralizing that would feel, how exhausting it would be to try and put up an invested front when inside you were crumbling.

Beside her, Helena’s steps had slowed, thoughtfulness radiating off of her, “I think it has…being here, being at the Grand, doing what I’ve been doing, it’s reminded me of how joyful this work can be. It’s been a long time since I’ve had _fun_ in a kitchen and the amount of freedom Wolly has given me, the staff that I have, it’s been _nothing but_ fun.”

Like a flare in the darkened sky, hope blossomed, bright and fast within Myka. Helena was _happy_ here…maybe…

She tried to shake the feeling away, to deflate that balloon of hope, because she knew, deep down, that just like the lilacs that surrounded them, this hope, this blossom of what could be, it would wither and disappear just as fast as it emerged. It was fleeting. It couldn’t last. It was too good, too beautiful to last. It was momentary, and while she could appreciate it while it was there, she knew it would only leave her hollow when it died.

“Of course it has also helped being back in the kitchen with Wolly, I hadn’t realized how much I had missed that…” Helena had kept talking, completely unaware of the shifting emotions wreaking havoc through Myka’s chest, completely unaware that she was suddenly wondering if she really wanted to know more about Helena’s life, because what happened if she learned something she didn’t want to know? Or worse yet, what if discovering even more about who Helena was made her realize that she had even further to fall for her and that she was powerless to stop her descent?

Myka fought to reign her thoughts back, return them to the present, to the _this very moment_ , because thinking about the future around Helena was nothing short of dangerous and every different shade of devastating. She asked casually, hoping it covered what was going on in her brain, “How did you two meet? I don’t think he’s ever told me.”

A whimsical, faraway smile overtook Helena’s face, “We’ve known each other for as long as either of us can remember, honestly. I don’t know how much Will has told you, but he didn’t have the easiest upbringing. Our families had a long history, our fathers had been friends since they were teenagers, and remained close despite their lives veering off on different trajectories. My father sort of took Will in; he was always at our house. He would come home with me after school, he would stay for dinner, spend weekends, anything that my family could do to keep him out of his own house as much as possible. I was never particularly close to my actual brother, the age difference between us was vast, our lives were just never quite in the same place, so William became the brother I always wanted. He drives me absolutely bonkers and yet I would do everything in my power to keep him happy and safe.”

Myka couldn’t prevent the look of surprise that immediately came over her face. Helena eyed her questioningly, “What exactly is that look about?”

Myka bit the corner of her lip, nervous, a bit embarrassed, “He’s never really told us any of that. I think I kind of expected it to have been a drunken college bonding thing or something…”

Luckily, rather than being offended by the assumption, Helena laughed loudly, “Trust me, there are plenty of those stories in our history too. Admittedly…some of them don’t always leave either of us in the best light…so we mostly keep those to ourselves.”

“Well, what fun is that?” 

“None whatsoever. However, Wolly’s secrets are his own and I am not going to divulge them and I am not even remotely willing to embarrass myself with my own stories that go along that vein. I much prefer you thinking I’m mysterious and innocently sweet.”

It was Myka’s turn to laugh, which did draw an almost offended look from Helena. Myka gripped Helena’s wrist with a lighthearted squeeze, “Don’t give me that look. You yourself have told me on _multiple occasions_ that you are trouble. I have _heard and seen_ the British charm. Sweet? Yes. Innocent? No fucking chance.”

“It’s highly possible you know me far better than I anticipated.” 

There was something in Helena’s tone that drew Myka up short. Some of the playfulness, the easy banter had melted away. She kept her fingers wrapped around Helena’s wrist, “Why did that just sound like it wasn’t necessarily a good thing?”

Helena shook her head quickly, dispelling whatever had descended so abruptly, “No, it wasn’t meant to. It’s just that…other than Wolly and my family…I don’t feel as though many people _know_ me. Yet somehow, in a matter of months you seem to have figured me out. It’s not something I’m used to.”

Myka smiled softly, “Trust me, I in no way, shape, or form feel like I have you figured out.”

“No?” Helena lifted an eyebrow pointedly, one corner of her lips curling up teasingly.

“Your air of mystery is entirely intact, Nerd.”

“Well, it’s good to know that I haven’t let _all_ of my secrets escape. Whatever would we do with the rest of our summer?”

Myka couldn’t help it, the opportunity was _right there_ , so blatantly open at her feet. She smirked dangerously, “Somehow I have a feeling we’ll figure something out…”

**

They wiled away the rest of the afternoon in idle conversation, strolling through the streets, taking in the vast and various ways the different stores and sights sought to celebrate the festival. As they were wandering along the south end of Main Street, taking in the indescribable beauty of the gardens in front of the homes there, Helena thought, not for the first time, about how easy it always seemed between them. Even as they lapsed into scattered silences, she never felt ill at ease or uncomfortable. They worked. They fit. At least when it came to everything but how on earth to make something like a relationship, an attempt at figuring out their feelings, work. 

Helena couldn’t stop her mind from wandering, from comparing and contrasting in her head what she once had with what she had now. She’d never been in a relationship where her partner was truly _invested_ in her life. Her last girlfriend, despite how long they had been together, never felt like she was a real _part_ of Helena’s life. They had orbited around each other, rarely home together, rarely sharing pertinent details. They convinced themselves that they worked because their relationship was convenient. Their lives meshed together decently, but they never had had a _shared_ life.

It was only now, being here, sharing things with Myka, having Myka ask about her life, being invested in what she was doing, how she was feeling, that Helena realized how much she longed for that. How much she longed to have a partner in every sense of the term. Someone to love, someone to not only share moments of passion with, but moments of quiet simplicity. Someone who was just as apt to ask you about the deeper meaning of things as they were to ask you what you wanted for dinner. She felt as though she and Myka could have that. Nothing had ever felt like this…

Yet, in the back of her mind, Pete’s question to her echoed, resounded, _pounded_ against her skull. Would she stay? _Could_ she stay? Could she build a life here? It was in the answers to those questions that things got messy and jumbled and no matter how much she thought she cared for Myka…she still wasn’t sure.

A voice calling out to Myka from behind them jarred her out of her reveries, turning with Myka to discover the source of the interruption to their walk. 

Helena watched as a bright smile lit up Myka’s face as the woman before them pulled Myka into her arms for a quick hug. The woman released Myka with a smile, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Myka smiled bashfully, “I took the afternoon off…”

“Myka Bering taking an afternoon off?” The woman let the back of her hand fall against her forehead with a mock sigh, “Whatever shall we do? I didn’t think such a thing was possible.”

“Jesus…”

The woman smirked and then held out a hand to Helena, “Since I have now embarrassed her into submission, I should say hello. I’m guessing you’re H.G.?”

Helena’s brow furrowed in confusion, but clasped the woman’s hand, “That would be me, yes.”

“Sorry, I’ve just heard so much about you between this one,” she gestured towards Myka, “ and my son and his girlfriend, that I feel like I already know you and here we haven’t even met. I’m Jane Lattimer.”

“Pete’s mom.” Recognition dawned on Helena immediately.

“Please don’t hold that against me,” Jane winked conspiratorially. “My son is a bit of a…handful. Thirty years later and I still haven’t figured out what to do with him.”

“Join the club,” Myka murmured.

Helena couldn’t quite muster a particularly kind word for Pete, so she did her best to smile warmly and steer the conversation away from him, “I’m glad to finally meet you. Everyone always seems to mention you whenever we’re together, so it’s hard to believe we haven’t met yet.”

“Well, I am the old lady of that little bunch. They like to keep me hidden away from all you youngins so I don’t ruin the fun, that is until I start feeding all of you. Speaking of which,” she turned to Myka, “do not forget dinner tomorrow night, Missy, and using the excuse that you took the day off today will not be accepted.”

“I wouldn’t miss it, you know that,” Myka said.

“Yes, well, I just have to make sure. H.G., you, of course, are absolutely welcome. In fact, I insist that you join us.”

Helena couldn’t help her smile, Jane’s warmth seemed to emanate from her and flow into everyone around her, “I would love to. Wolly had actually mentioned something about it earlier this week, but I didn’t necessarily want to show up without an invitation. He has a tendency to just fling me into situations without telling anyone what’s going on.”

Jane’s laughter danced around them, “That would be Wolly, but of course, we would love to have you. Now that we’ve settled into the season, you will get to know my house well.”

“Jane likes to make sure we’re all taking care of ourselves, so she insists on cooking an obscene amount of food every few weeks, lulling us into her house with the promise of food and using the time to pry into every last detail of our lives.”

Jane rolled her eyes at Helena, “I swear to God, I have known this girl since she was five years old, and she has been sassy from the moment I met her.”

“I learned that quite quickly myself.” Helena bumped her shoulder against Myka’s with an endearing smile, which merely earned her a rise of color into Myka’s cheeks and a hesitant smirk.

“Ok,” Jane waved her hands dismissively, “I should get going. I made Liam choose the menu for tomorrow since it’s his welcome back dinner, so I have some shopping to do.”

“Liam is Steve’s husband, correct?” Helena asked.

“The very same. He gets in tomorrow. Steve’s been bouncing around the stables all day,” Myka grinned.

“You will love Liam. Compared to the rest of this little crew, he is a dream. Sweet, quiet, _calm_.” 

“I didn’t think that was possible. I thought wild insanity was a requirement for friendship with all of them.”

“Careful, Nerd, we let you in quickly, so what does that say about you?”

“Nothing I didn’t know already.”

“Oh H.G., you are going to be a lovely addition to the party,” Jane laughed. “They all need someone to keep them in check. Lord knows I’ve tried.”

“I will do my best to bring a little _decorum_ to all of them.”

“Good luck with that,” Myka teased.

Jane held out her hand to Helena again, giving Helena’s hand a light squeeze, “It was a pleasure to meet you _finally_ , H.G. Before I go, would you mind if I borrowed her for a second?” Jane’s eyes slid to Myka’s carefully, a tiny smirk teasing her lips.

“Of course. She’s all yours.”

Jane wrapped a hand around Myka’s elbow and pulled her out of Helena’s earshot. Myka rolled her eyes, “Nothing obvious about this whatsoever.”

“Oh hush. So this…this seems _promising_? Spending the day together…”

Myka sighed, running a hand through her curls, “We’re giving _friendship_ our best effort. This isn’t anything like it looks like.”

“Uh huh, no, no it doesn’t look at all like a lovely afternoon date between two people who are utterly smitten with each other.”

“And you said _I_ was sassy.”

“I’m sorry, honey, but that woman’s attention to you is _anything but_ friendly. I’m surprised your clothes haven’t just been scorched off of your body.”

“Oh my God, _Jane_ …” Myka groaned.

“Just my honest opinion,” Jane said as though it was the most innocent statement in the world.

Myka fidgeted from foot to foot, “Honest opinion or not, that’s _not happening_ and this looks really weird and obvious so I should probably get back.”

“Yes, yes, _fine_.” Jane pulled Myka into a hug, whispering in her ear as she did, “Fight for your happiness, honey. _Please_.”

Myka held Jane tightly, fighting back the tears that had sprung immediately behind her eyes. She didn’t respond to Jane’s words, just let her go with a wave and a promise that she’d see her at dinner.

Helena’s eyebrows were arched as Myka returned to her side. “What?” Myka asked as though none of the last few minutes had happened.

“That seemed a bit…conspiratorial.”

Myka sighed, resuming their walk, “Jane has always been like a mom to me, more than my own mother honestly, but sometimes that leads her to being a bit…nosy.”

“Does she know? About what happened…with us?” It was a blatant question, but for some reason Helena _wanted_ to know, needed to know how Myka had been processing her feelings about all of this.

“She does,” Myka nodded, her voice a bit shy. “Like I said, I tend to tell her _mom_ sorts of things.”

“And I qualified for such a conversation?” Helena’s voice was light, almost teasing, despite the seriousness of the question.

“Does it surprise you that you did?”

“Not really no…I am curious though. What did she say?”

Myka smiled softly, “Oh come on, Nerd, nice try. I’ll answer a lot of questions, but there’s no way I’m walking into that minefield.”

Helena chuckled quietly, “I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

“A valiant effort, but that’s a vault you aren’t cracking anytime soon.”

“Duly noted, but don’t think that will keep me from trying.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “I would expect nothing less.”

“Someday, Myka Bering, you will realize that I have figured out all of your secrets. Vaults be damned.”

Myka laughed, softened under Helena’s playful gaze, but deep down she knew…there was an ardent, undeniable truth to everything Helena had just said.

**

For as much as Helena had started to feel as though she was beginning to meld with everyone, as much as she was starting to feel like she had a _place_ , at least a temporary one, with all of them, being the last to walk into Jane Lattimer’s house for dinner on Friday night was a sharp reminder that there were traditions here, dynamics present that she simply was not yet accustomed to, places where she wasn’t quite sure where she fit in just yet. Walking into the house felt like she was stepping into a family reunion about two hours too late, with all the casual catch-ups and small talk portions of the party over, and everyone moved on to inside jokes and intimate familiarity. She was starting to regret not accepting Wolly’s invitation to meet her and go together, but she had stubbornly refused the offer, claiming that she had things to do at home before arriving. It had been a dubious and completely transparent lie to cover up the fact that she wanted to take her own time in getting ready; a decidedly _non-friendly_ action, but she and Myka so rarely saw each other in non-working clothes that she couldn’t help her desire to be attentive to how she looked for the evening, regardless of what that action said about her claims to want to just be friends with Myka. The effort, however, the delay it caused in her arrival, proved entirely worth it once she walked into the living room and watched as Myka’s eyes visibly widened, her drink suddenly not going down quite as smoothly, eliciting a small coughing fit, which Claudia attempted to soothe with a swift hand to Myka’s back.

Jane emerged from a small hallway off of the room, mouth pursed in concern, “Myka, dear, are you alright?”

Myka held up a solitary hand, sucking in a deep breath, “Yeah, yeah, totally fine, just swallowed wrong.”

“She’s good Mrs. L, just ya know…momentarily distracted.” Claudia surreptitiously shot Helena a wink before turning back to Myka with a contrite look, “Just teasing, boss.”

Jane followed Claudia’s gaze, realizing that Helena had arrived. She set down the tray she was holding, pointing a finger at Wolly, “Guard these with your life or Pete will eat them all.” She dusted her hands against her jeans, holding her arms out to Helena, “H.G., I’m so glad you made it.”

Helena returned Jane’s hug, “I’m so sorry I’m late. I had a few things to take care of at home.” Helena couldn’t keep her eyes from straying to Myka once again, noticing that she was determinedly _not_ looking their way.

Jane, as if sensing the true reason for her lateness, chuckled softly and patted her arm, “Well, you’re here now. Make yourself at home, and,” she pitched her voice lower, “try not to make anyone else choke on their drinks if you can.” She winked playfully before turning on her heel and heading back towards the kitchen with a mild spring in her step.

Helena gaped momentarily and then smiled triumphantly to herself, only moderately chastising herself for the surge of pleasure she had gotten from the little scene. She didn’t _want_ to be pushing this hard, knew in fact that she shouldn’t be, and yet…she found herself quite incapable of resisting the urge to keep pushing, inch by inch, in the possible hopes that the further she got over the line that she and Myka had drawn in the sand, the easier it would be to forget that it had been there in the first place.

Everyone else returned their attention to whatever conversations they had been engaged in before Helena entered, Pete and Kelly doing their best to help Jane get things ready for dinner, Myka, Claudia and the boys huddled near the fireplace, deep in conversation, or at least Claudia and the boys seemed to be, Myka continued to look slightly dazed. Helena, despite feeling the urge to go over and save Myka from whatever conversation she seemed to be trapped in, veered her course to where Wolly was lounged on a couch, laughing boisterously with Steve and a man whom Helena could only assume was Steve’s husband, Liam.

“Hel!” Wolly exclaimed as she made her way towards them, “ _Finally_ …I thought you might have bailed on us.” 

She settled next to him on the couch, his arm falling casually around her shoulders. She rolled her eyes slightly, jostling his knee, “I’m not _that_ late, but I am sorry for it. I got a bit caught up at home.”

Wolly took a long, _pointed_ drink from his glass before whispering, “Caught up _dressing up_. Jesus, are you trying to give her a heart attack?”

“ _William,_ …” she ground out between her teeth, “Do not start.”

“I’m not _starting_. You’re the one who walked in here looking, well, _like that_.”

“I wanted to look nice. Jane didn’t have to invite me, and I figured it was polite to dress for the occasion.”

“You are bloody full of it and you know it.”

“I’m ignoring you now.” Helena turned her attention to the two chairs positioned across the coffee table from them, a bright smile on her face, “Since William here has decided to be rude and not make introductions, I’m going to make the assumption that you’re Liam.”

A crooked, easy kind of smile graced the man’s face, drawing his cheeks in to reveal deep set dimples. He reached a hand out, “I am, and you must be H.G.?”

Helena clasped his proffered hand, “That I am. Nice to meet you, Liam. I’ve heard so much about you, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Likewise. It isn’t often this bunch lets someone else into the inner circle, so I was actually starting to wonder if they were all pulling my leg that you existed. I figured they might have made you up just to get back at me for how much grief I give them for not talking to anyone else.”

“We are not nearly that bad,” Steve commented with a playful smile. 

“Oh we are _exactly_ that bad,” Wolly stated unequivocally. 

“Who’s exactly that bad and at what?” Claudia asked, collapsing onto the floor and leaning back against Steve’s knees.

“We are apparently. _Apparently_ , we are all horrendously anti-social and only like talking to each other, to the point that no one believes we actually _like_ other people, let alone let them socialize with us,” Steve said with an air of sarcastic drama.

Claudia nodded with a shrug, “Sounds about right, actually.” She gestured a hand towards H.G., “She only got in because we tend to like having Wolly around for entertainment, it was a bonus that she ended up being cool. Cooler than Wolly honestly.”

“Hey! I resent that.”

“Oh but William,” Helena patted his cheek playfully, “it’s so very true. Trust me.”

“I am cool. Come on, I run a bar for gods sake, what’s cooler than that?”

“Ya know what’s distinctly _uncool_? Listing all the reasons that you’re cool,” Todd commented, dropping down on the floor next to Claudia.

“I am feeling decidedly ganged up on. Helena, I may have liked it better before you arrived. You walked in and everything seems to have turned decidedly out of my favor.”

“We tease because we love, Wolly. We tease because we love,” Claudia sang out her words on an improvised melody.

“Ya know, on second thought, it might be the other way around. Other people may avoid all of _you_ …” Liam stated with a growing smirk, his eyes dancing with merriment.

Steve bobbed his head back in forth in consideration, “That’s actually most likely really true.”

“And yet, we’re ignoring the simple fact that _you_ , Liam, Mr. Apparent Beacon of Innocence over there are the absolute _worst_ of us when it comes to behavior that others would choose to avoid.” Wolly gave Liam an appraising glance, practically begging him to disagree.

“I’m married to you and even _I_ would second that opinion,” Steve smirked.

Liam shrugged, “Say what you want, I make all of your lives much more entertaining.”

“Oh yeah, _entertaining_. Do we need to relive the disaster that was the midnight hike last summer?” Todd said with a shudder.

“Hey, _that was fun_!” 

“Wondering if you’re going to end up being eaten by a wolf is _not_ fun, Liam.”

“Ok, _I_ thought it was fun.”

“I’m beginning to question the safety of spending time with _any of you_ ,” Helena said. 

“I warned you from day one that we were all crazy, you’re the one who decided to keep coming back for more.” Myka’s voice carried into Helena’s ears with a dancing lilt, warming Helena from the inside out. 

Myka stepped closer to where they were all gathered, Fargo coming with her and perching himself next to Helena on the couch, eyes straying every few seconds to where Claudia and Todd were huddled together on the floor. Helena shifted on the couch, allowing for more space to be made, a clear indication that Myka could sit if she chose. She watched as Myka’s eyes stole to the space next to her before she simply leaned down across the back of Liam’s chair, and tapped him lightly on the top of the head, “If we’re talking Liam is guilty of insanity stories…need I remind you that _two_ summers ago, you almost let all my horses out of the stables?”

“That was not my fault.”

“That might have been partially my fault,” Steve said, a distinct blush creeping up his neck.

“It was entirely your fault and I will never let you live it down.” A teasing grin pulled at Myka’s cheeks as she bent down and left a kiss to Liam’s forehead, “However, we love you…so we kind of just have to deal. Word to the wise though,” she shot a quick look at Helena, “don’t ever follow him into the woods or you will sorely regret it. He will get you so lost you won’t know which way is up.”

“That was _one time_!”

“Oh hey, are we talking about the time Liam got everyone lost and we all thought we were going to die? _Best summer ever_ ,” Pete boomed as he returned back into the living room from the kitchen.

“Babe…I’m fairly certain you were the only one of us who thought that was fun,” Kelly stated casually, following behind Pete.

“I thought it was fun,” Liam said.

“I repeat… _getting lost in the woods is not fun_!” Todd groaned.

“I knew _exactly_ where we were going.”

“‘Guys, it was _supposed_ to take us three hours to find the car.’” Kelly with a mocking glare at Liam.

“‘It’s normal to feel like you’re going around in circles,’” Wolly added.

Liam held up in hands in obvious surrender, “Ok, ok, it was _not_ my finest moment. You guys keep going on like this and H.G. is going to think I’m a complete idiot or some masochist who likes to torture his friends.”

“I shall rush to no such judgment, but I will warn you, get me lost in the woods and you will have hell to pay.”

Liam smirked, “Duly noted.”

“Take the warning Liam, my man. She might look all sweet and innocent, but trust me…hell hath no fury,” Wolly said with only a modicum of teasing, squeezing his arm around Helena’s shoulders lightly.

From there the conversation wove its way around Helena so fast she felt veritably drunk on words. It seemed as though with Liam’s addition to the group, they were all finally, fully _home_. The conversation flowed quickly from one story, one anecdote, one joke to another, no conversation truly finishing but simply giving way to another memory which led to another story. It struck Helena, not for the first time, how well they all gelled together, each bringing the right amount of whatever they had to offer to the group to keep everything balanced. For every loud, boisterous, mildly obnoxious comment that Wolly or Pete offered, Steve or Myka was there with a quiet, slightly sarcastic counterpoint. Liam added a certain level of boyish charm to their dynamic, trading teasing barbs at times, but also offering up considerate reflection. Despite having been around all of them for more than two months, Helena still found all of them, when they were together, slightly overwhelming. Overwhelming because never in her life had she had something like _this_ , a group of people that accepted each other so implicitly that every tease was taken with love, every word of advice appreciated though not always listened to. The support and the care they had for each other was so readily apparent that Helena couldn’t quite process that she was somehow a part of it. But then she wondered, was she really? This wasn’t her place. This wasn’t her home. These weren’t her people. Not truly. She was passing through their lives as swiftly as the ferries that came and left the Island so much during the day that you eventually stopped noticing them. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought, at the comparison, and she wondered if next summer, when they were all together again, like this, without her, if they would even remember that she had been there.

**

“So, H.G., how do you like life on the Island?” Liam asked casually, almost quietly once they’d sat down to dinner. 

Helena had found herself somehow settled between Liam and Wolly, with Myka woefully positioned on the polar opposite end of the table, practically out of view. The question caught Helena up short, having taken to minding a bit of her own business while the rest of them caught up, reminisced, got on with their normal conversations. As if sensing her reticence, Liam leaned in a bit, giving her a charming, half-smile, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you off-guard. I just…we didn’t really get much of a chance to talk when you got here.”

Helena, feeling suddenly at ease under the light, the casual charisma of Liam’s gentle smile, returned one of her own, “Yes, you all are rather… _exuberant_ when you’re all together. It’s hard to get a word in edgewise sometimes.”

Liam laughed quietly, “Tell me about it. Sometimes I can’t decide who is harder to wrangle, a room full of third graders or this bunch.”

“That seems a very…accurate comparison. At least while Wolly and Pete are around.”

“You’ve clearly settled in quite nicely if you’ve figured out that it is best for everyone’s sanity to keep those two as far apart as possible.”

“Sadly, I’ve known William my entire life, so I am more than aware of his propensity for nonsense and trouble.”

“Nonsense and trouble? You wouldn’t be talking about _me_ would you?” Wolly asked, quickly distracted from whatever Kelly had been saying to him by the conversation that Helena and Liam were having.

Helena rolled her eyes, “We absolutely were.” She pushed a hand against his shoulder, “Do not abandon, Kelly. Remain distracted, and leave us be, free from your nonsense and trouble.”

“Spoil sport,” Wolly winked.

“What can I say? It has been my life’s chosen destiny from the moment I met you, to spoil your fun at every possible opportunity.”

“Why ever do I keep you around?”

“Because I am devilishly charming and have proven too good of a wing-woman in the past for you to ever let me go.”

Wolly’s cheeks tinged a slight pink before he laughed soundly, “Too true. Alright, I’ll let the _adults_ return to their conversation.”

Helena chuckled softly, turning her attention back to Liam, “Bane of my existence since I was a child.”

“You obviously can’t stand each other, as evidenced by the fact that you’ve come up here to spend the summer and work with him. Which returns me to my earlier question, how have you found life on the Island?”

Helena inhaled deeply, her mind drifting off across the last two months. She had found life nothing short of serenely complicated, but she couldn’t very well just say that to Liam. She smiled slightly, “It’s been an adjustment. Coming here after living in the city for years, well, it’s _quiet_ , but I must say, I’ve found it far more charming, far more comfortable than I ever imagined.”

If Liam caught the not so subtle glance she stole Myka’s way at that comment, he was kind enough to not mention it, not even acknowledge it. He simply nodded, “It’s an adjustment, there’s no denying that. It’s a whole different world up here, that’s part of the reason why we only do it for part of the year. I think both of us would go a bit stir crazy if we lived here full time.”

Inwardly, Helena felt her muscles tense, cringe slightly. Life here permanently would be more than an adjustment and yet…she’d found herself contemplating it more than she would care to admit. Which was patently ridiculous since she had _no reason_ to contemplate such things. She was leaving. In four and a half months. End of story. She tamped her thoughts down, choosing to focus on Liam, “I can imagine that living in two separate places though…that also has to bring a certain amount of adjustment.”

Liam’s head bobbed back and forth, “Yeah, a bit. I mean now it’s just our _life_. We’ve been doing it for so long it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but to others, yeah it seems a bit crazy.”

“So explain the crazy a bit to me, because I’ll admit I’m still a bit hazy on details. You’ll now be here full time for the rest of the summer?”

“Until mid-August, yeah, then I have to get back to Pickford and get things set up for the next school year. I try to do as much as I can from here so I can stay longer, but some things just have to be done there.”

“Then Steve leaves…”

“End of September usually. He’ll come back with the last load of horses to leave the Island.”

“That must be hard…being apart for such long stretches…” Again Helena’s eyes stole to Myka who was entirely oblivious to the attention, to the conversation happening down the table from her. Helena didn’t even know why she was thinking about all of this in terms of them, but listening to Liam, thinking about how he and Steve made their lives just _work_ , she couldn’t keep her brain from _wondering_ …

Liam’s words pierced back through her thoughts, “Yeah, I mean it is, but ya know…I love him, I choose to look at it as being that simple. His job is a part of who he is, same with mine. We’re both doing what we were _meant_ to do, and so, yeah, it sucks, being apart, but at the same time, you do what you have to do if you love someone, right?”

For one faint second, Helena wondered how much Liam _knew_ , if Steve had told him about her and Myka. She assumed he had, but she couldn’t tell if he was _trying_ to imply anything with his words, or if her mind was in such a twisted knot with all of this that she was imagining things. She cleared her throat, unwilling to stray down that path, especially if his words were mere happenstance, “Of course, absolutely.” She felt desperate for a change of subject and so leapt at the first thought that occurred to her mind, “How did you two meet?”

Liam’s smile deepened, his eyes twinkling with the action, “We actually knew each other in college. We dated for a few kind of disastrous months, and then we didn’t see each other for awhile, but then one day the school I teach at was hosting a job fair kind of thing, and there he was…talking to kids about taking care of animals, and whatever was disastrous in college ended up being decidedly _not disastrous_ once we’d both grown up. We both just needed to get our acts together apparently, and meet again at the right time.”

“At the right time…” Helena whispered, feeling her chest tighten at how woefully unfair it felt that there might _never be_ a right time for her and Myka, and yet she couldn’t help but question if maybe _this was the right time_. Maybe they just couldn’t see it yet.

“Oh Liam…I meant to ask you earlier…how is Sarah?” Jane asked from across the table, putting an immediate and decisive end to he and Helena’s conversation as he turned his attention to Jane and filled her in on the ins and outs of his sister’s life, particularly he and Steve’s newest baby niece.

Once again, Helena’s mind swirled with the flood of conversation that cascaded around her, as that one simple question led to a long-winded catch up on how _everyone’s_ siblings and families were. Having spent so little time with all of them as of yet, Jane insisted that she was woefully behind on updates and therefore demanded to hear every last detail she might have missed. Helena paid only passing attention to the conversation around her, choosing instead to let her mind continue to sink and wander amongst the things Liam had said. _You do what you have to do when you love someone, right…_

It was only when she caught a hint of Myka’s voice that her attention returned to full focus, only hearing the tail end of the conversation, “They’re coming end of July, I think.”

Helena took in the way Jane’s lips had pulled in tight, the rigidity of her posture as she sat across from Helena, the force it seemed to take her to get her words out, “Well, you know my guest room is always open.”

Myka shrugged, “I have enough room for them, but thanks for the offer.”

“I meant for _you_.”

Myka flushed slightly then couldn’t seem to help the smirk that pulled at her lips, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do.”

Helena couldn’t stop the words that fled her mouth, “Who exactly is visiting in July?”

Myka’s eyes met hers for one of the first times all evening, her voice steady, though Helena could see the war raging behind her eyes, “My parents.”

**

After dinner, Claudia, Todd, Fargo, Liam, Steve, and Wolly sprawled out on the floor with the Monopoly board, declaring that some grudge or other from the previous summer had to be rectified. Helena watched them play a few times around the board before her attention was pulled to the pictures that were littered across the mantle of the fireplace. No one else was paying her mind and so she stood up aiming to get a closer look. Looking at those pictures was like looking across a timeline of Pete and Myka’s lives, from when they were little, adorably chubby cheeked and playing in the water, to the day Pete and Kelly closed on their house, to what appeared to be Myka’s first day in charge of the stables, and lastly to what had to have been Myka’s graduation from college. She was stood in between two people whom Helena could recognize in an instant, having seen their pictures up at the stables. Myka looked like an exact combination of her grandparents, her grandfather’s eyes the same devastatingly sparkling green as hers, her grandmother’s hair a messy tangle of curls that seemed to have held up in spite of age. Helena smiled softly to see their arms thrown about Myka’s shoulders, the way that pride simply exuded off of them. It didn’t surprise her in the least that there didn’t appear to be any photos of Myka’s parents, especially after the ice that was in Jane’s words regarding them at dinner. Helena’s eyes lingered on the photo for a few seconds longer before straying to the others. There were some that she couldn’t quite place but could assume, Pete’s siblings, his parents’ wedding day, nieces, nephews, a formal picture of Pete’s dad, whom he looked just like, in his full fireman’s outfit.

“I know you’re thinking, ‘what a stud,’ right?” Pete’s voice cracked around the edges of his attempted levity as he stepped up, carefully, next to H.G. seemingly uncertain of how close was _too close_.

Helena gave him a tight smile, “He is quite handsome, there is no denying that. You…you look just like him.”

“Callin’ me _handsome_ , H.G.?” Pete smirked, though it died quickly, his hand coming up to push through his hair, ruffling it as it went.

“Only if it won’t go to your head and cause you to bring it up every time we’re together from now on…” Helena tried to ease her own sense of calm, detached teasing into her voice, but it wouldn’t quite come, not fully, not considering how their last attempt at conversation had gone.

Pete’s hand shifted to the back of his head, scratching nervously, distractedly, “Listen…H.G.” He cleared his throat roughly, “I’m…I’m sorry for being such a dick to you the other day. I was…I was way out of line, and you didn’t deserve that.”

Of all the things she had been expecting Pete to say, that was _the last thing_ Helena had been expecting. She tried not to let her face betray her shock, but knew it was most likely extremely evident, “Thank you, Pete. I appreciate that.”

Pete gave her a slow nod, his eyes trailing up to the mantle. He gestured distractedly, “You can kinda see where I might get a bit overprotective.” He jutted his chin towards the picture of Myka and him playing in the water, “She’s been by my side since I was a kid. She’s watched me do some really stupid shit and never left me, so I get a bit…”

“Big brotherly?” Helena offered with a less hesitant smile.

Pete laughed on a soft exhalation, “Yeah…she’s just…she’s saved my ass too many times to count, and well, sometimes I try to do the same, but mostly I end up doing it when she doesn’t need it at all, and that’s on me. So, like I said…I’m sorry…for getting in the way of…” he seemed to flounder for words to properly describe Myka and Helena’s relationship.

Helena put a delicate hand to his forearm, “I wouldn’t try to find a word for what you’re looking for, I’m not sure there is one. If there is, Myka and I certainly haven’t found it yet…”

“Right,” Pete nodded with a more playful smile, “Mykes is a bit better with the words than me anyway, so I guess I’ll leave that to her.” 

“Pete, honey, will you come help me with the leaf for the table?” Jane poked her head around the living room door with a smile leveling her gaze at the group huddled on the floor. She pointed a finger vigorously at all of them, “You _will not_ break something in my house again because of that game or I will stop feeding you.”

They all had the grace to look slightly ashamed, returning to their game with a bit more subdued attention.

Pete gave H.G. a tight smile, “I’m on son duty apparently, I’ll see you later, H.G.”

Helena returned his smile, somehow, surprisingly feeling lighter for their conversation. She didn’t expect to, but she felt oddly _relieved_ by it, though she couldn’t put a finger on why. Before she had time to properly mull it over, the spot Pete had been occupying by her side was taken up by Myka. She seemed almost as nervous, almost as hesitant as Pete had been in his approach, offering up a crooked smile as she leaned against the mantle. “Everything alright, there?” she gestured her head back in the direction Pete had gone.

“Surprisingly, yes, more than alright actually.”

Myka’s eyes widened, “Really?”

Helena smiled brightly at Myka’s shock, “Believe it or not, that best friend of yours just apologized to me.”

“Wow…well…that’s…that’s unexpected.”

“I quite agree, though if at any point he _ever_ mentions that I called him handsome, I will deny the entire conversation ever happened.”

Myka’s brow knit in confusion, “Do I even _want_ to know?”

“Probably not.”

Myka’s gaze turned to the pictures on the mantle, laughing with a hint of self-deprecation, “Jesus…speaking of things I don’t want to know…what you thought upon seeing my _baby pictures_.”

Helena’s lilting laughter joined Myka’s, “Oh come on, you were adorable.”

“Lord…”

Helena looked at the picture of Myka and Pete in the water again, taking in the way her cheeks were pulled as widely as possible in a big, toothy grin, the way that even wet her curls were just this side of wild. She gave Myka a contented smile, “You look so happy.”

“Yeah, well, for one brief moment Pete wasn’t splashing me so…”

“One would say that was decidedly _not_ the reason you were so happy in this picture though,” Helena gestured carefully to the graduation photo.

Myka let out a breath on a rush of seized emotion, “That…that was definitely an entirely different kind of happy.”

“You look exactly like them.”

Myka chuckled, “My mom always used to joke that if she hadn’t actually _had me_ herself, she’d wonder if I was her kid, I looked so much like my dad’s side of the family.” There was a tiny moment, a hint of a beat where Helena tried to find the next thing to say, but Myka’s voice continued to float between them, seemingly already lost in a haze of memory, “They were so happy that day. I had told them they didn’t need to come down…the season had already started, I knew how busy they would be, but they insisted. Pap _cried_ , which was just _not_ something he did. They were so excited for me to figure out what my life was going to be…little did they realize that all I really wanted was for my life to be like theirs…here, happy…”

_In love_...Helena almost filled in, but stopped her tongue from gliding over the words. What purpose would they serve after all other than making everything worse?

“It’s so weird to me to look at this now though and realize that even then they’d probably already made the decision to leave me the house. They probably figured I’d just get to retire up here like they did…” Myka shook her head vigorously, chasing away the tears, the thought, “Ya know…Gram would have loved you. She loved to bake…she got flour _everywhere_ when she did it, but she loved it, and Pap had a sweet tooth.”

“The one gene you failed to get huh?” Helena teased.

“Apparently. Gram would have appreciated your determination though. She eventually stopped attempting to get me to eat the stuff…except for the things she knew I really liked.”

“Is that where the cherry cobbler came from?”

A wistful smile pulled at Myka’s lips, “Yeah…she only ever made it once a summer though. She waited every year for her shipment of them from Traverse City to make it, claimed they were the only cherries worth using.”

“Sounds like your grandmother was a woman of determination herself.”

“Absolutely. Like I said, she would have loved you.”

Helena laughed quietly, shaking her head with a sense of resignation, “ _How the hell_ am I supposed to make you cherry cobbler now? Knowing I’m up against your grandmother’s recipe? Bloody hell, I don’t stand a chance.”

Myka smirked playfully, “Oh Nerd, come on, I have a feeling you’re more than up to the challenge…”

“I appreciate that one of us has that much faith in me.”

“Ruling! No way in hell can you do that! _Ruling!_ ” Claudia shouted from the floor. 

“Oh God…” Myka groaned.

“What?” Helena was, once again, perplexed at what she had missed, at what inside joke she was not privy to yet.

“Just wait for it…”

“Myka! Ruling!” Claudia waved Myka over furiously.

Helena gave Myka a questioning look which she returned with a wickedly mischievous smile, “Apparently you get to learn one of my secrets tonight. There’s a reason I am not on the floor with the board game gang…”

“And that reason is…”

“They all got tired of getting their asses kicked.” Myka pointed a triumphant finger at her own chest, “Monopoly master right here.”

“And thus the keeper of the rules apparently.”

“Exactly.”

“You are a never-ending font of secrets, Myka Bering.”

“Don’t I know it,” Myka shot over her shoulder with a quick wink as she knelt down on the floor to get along with the business of providing her much demanded ruling.

Helena watched the scene play out, the back and forth argument that Myka’s opinion garnered. Warmth that somehow felt blistering and chilling all at once wrapped its way around Helena’s chest with a grip so tight she questioned her ability to continue breathing. Being here, watching all of them, watching Myka, seeing the pictures, hearing the stories, it only solidified more in Helena’s mind how much Myka’s life was _here_. How much she was tied to this place and it to her. This wasn’t simply where she had chosen to build her life, _it was her lifeYou do what you have to if you love someone, right?_ Helena’s eyes wove around the room, at these people, _this family_ , and she wondered if it could be hers too, if she could find a place here, if Myka would even want her to. She wondered if this could be home…and she wondered what she would do if the answer ended up being yes. If it ended up being no.

**

Myka ended up turning her undivided attention to the board game at hand, getting caught up in what was turning out to be the most curse word laden game Helena had ever experienced in her life, while Pete and Kelly had finally hauled Jane out of the kitchen and onto the couch where they were currently looking through an email Pete’s sister had sent containing new pictures of her kids. The overwhelming weight of her thoughts, of the room started to press onto Helena’s chest like a stone, and so while no one was paying her much attention she stole through the kitchen and out the back door to wander amongst Jane’s immaculate garden. She pulled in heady breaths of lavender, of honey, of lilac, willing them to soothe her addled mind, lull her back to some kind of emotional baseline, and yet it was a fruitless effort.

She wandered amongst the rows of flower boxes, hearing the waves crashing onto the shore as the wind picked up as the night wore on. Her mind was running on one endless loop, a constant reminder that her life in DC was _never like this_. Never, in all of her years living there, even in the beginning when the restaurant was just getting its feet under it, did it feel like _home_ , like where she belonged. Her family was in London, and while she had her friends, a casual group of acquaintances that would on occasion go out, mostly to drink their stress away, she never had what truly felt like a _family_ that was always _right there_. She of course had Wolly, her almost daily calls with her mother, but nothing like this constant presence of support and _joy_ that exuded from the people that populated Myka’s life. 

Despite ardently trying not to, she thought of Steve and Liam, of Pete and Kelly, even of Claudia and Todd in their newly burgeoning relationship, and all she could do was _compare_ them to what she had left behind in DC in utter shambles. Life with Giselle had never been like this, had never even truly been _love_ the more she thought about it. There had been no such thing as compromise, as _things you do because_ ; their life together was one of constant convenience and happenstance. Now, with the clarity of distance from it, with the blinding reality that the six months since they had broken up had brought, she realized they’d never even been a couple, not in any true sense. They were two people whose lives had conveniently fit together without much complication. They were two people who relatively enjoyed each other’s company, despite having little in common other than a keen sense of passion and a propensity to work themselves to death. They had swum along in a vague sense of something that might have been happiness adjacent, passing ships through their apartment, figuring that if things were working, then they must be _happy_. Being here now, having spent two months with Myka, Helena realized how foolish that definition of happy had been. 

“Ya know, you’re starting to get a reputation for sneaking out of parties.” 

The teasing echo of Myka’s voice across the garden jolted Helena from her reverie. She turned towards the source of Myka’s voice, to find her leaning against the side of the porch, her face aglow from the porch light highlighting the crooked grin she was shining in Helena’s direction. 

Helena was powerless to do anything but smile gratefully in return under the shining radiance of Myka’s smile, “And _you’re_ getting a reputation for _finding_ me when I’ve snuck out of parties.”

“And thus we get to the real reason I can’t abide by this reputation of yours…it’s sullying my good name and standing. I’m becoming known for sneaking out too, I’m guilty by association.”

“Well, you could just leave me to be about my sneaking. No one is forcing you to find me.”

Myka skipped down the back steps lightly, an aura of playfulness radiating off of her, “I don’t know, I mean, you’re still new here. I can’t have you sneaking out and getting lost. I’d feel responsible.”

“I can see your concern. I could get lost walking in the straight line it takes to get from here to my house.”

Something in Helena’s words, despite their attempt at sarcastic whimsy, caught Myka up short. She felt her posture go a bit rigid, her face falling into a vague hint of concern. When she spoke, her playfulness had ebbed into worry, “Do I actually need to be concerned that you’re _actually_ sneaking out? That you’re planning on just wandering to your house without saying goodbye to any of us?”

Helena shrugged, the momentary reprieve from her thoughts gone, the weight of her mood once again collapsing back onto her shoulders, “I wasn’t exactly planning on sneaking out quite that completely…”

“Then why are you out here?” Myka closed the gap between them, her fingers twitching as though she wanted to reach out to Helena, but stopping before she did so as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it.

“I just needed some air.”

“Well…that’s understandable, when all of us get together like this, we tend to be a bit…suffocating.”

Helena leveled her gaze at Myka, speaking clearly, certainly, “You all are wonderful.”

Myka shook her head, confusion overtaking her initial lighthearted mood , “I honestly have no idea what’s going on right now, because you say that, and it sounds like it’s a _horrible_ thing. I feel like I’m missing something here…did Pete say something again? Did something happen that I am completely oblivious to that has brought you out here in need of air despite our…wonderfulness?”

“No, Myka…” Helena hung her head, turning to look back at the flowers, look anywhere other than at Myka. She wrapped her arms around her waist as if in that one simple act she could hold herself together, convince herself to not break apart right here in the middle of Jane’s damn garden like some sort of wilting flower. She sighed, “I’ve never had this before…”

“This…”

“A _family_ like this. People that just love you and _get_ you. People that so clearly just love being around each other, who are crazy together, who tease each other, and know everything about you and care about you anyway. I’ve…I’ve never had that.”

Helena heard Myka let out a kind of strangled sigh that seemed as though it was laced with a hint of frustration, “I don’t know what you want me to say to that, Helena. I mean…there are things I feel like I _could_ say, but they would all seem woefully self-serving.”

“I…I feel…” Helena tried to find the right words, but they fled before even reaching the tip of her tongue.

Myka finally allowed herself to reach out, to let her fingers brush against Helena’s fingertips which were still wrapped around her waist. She expected Helena to shy away from the touch, but she didn’t, she acknowledged it with a slight pulse of her fingers under Myka’s, but didn’t move to make it last longer than a moment. Myka sighed, letting her fingers fall, “What do you feel, Helena?”

Helena bit down on her lip, tipping her head up to the sky, wishing the right words would be spelled out in the stars, “I feel entirely…jumbled up. I feel like a complete mess. When we’re all together…I _love_ that, but then I get caught up in the thought that I’m not really _here_ , and then I look at you…and Jesus…I don’t know…it’s like looking at _home_. And… _bloody hell_ …I miss you, Myka. I miss you, even though I’ve seen you practically everyday, and it’s _stupid_ to feel like this. It’s ridiculous to think this much about it.”

“It’s not…it’s not ridiculous.” Myka let her breath out slowly, giving herself enough time to gather her thoughts. She didn’t want to be frustrated, and yet…there was part of her that was so _tired_ of this back and forth. She hung her head; it wasn’t worth the fight, not with Helena in this mood, “I miss you too, and it’s not stupid. We’re just…we’re figuring things out. _We’ll figure things out_ , and I know you don’t feel like this is your place because it’s temporary, but it can still be your place while you’re here. You don’t have to run away from how this feels, all of us being together, just because it’s momentary. You can enjoy it while it lasts, that has to be worth something.”

Helena knew that what Myka said was true and she wanted to cling to it, embrace it, but she couldn’t escape out from under the oppressive weight of her tangled up mess of emotions. She turned back to Myka, helpless to do anything but sigh, offer a feeble smile, “I…I appreciate that, Myka, but…I don’t know…I think I am going to actually _sneak out_. I think I just need to go home, get a little sleep.”

Myka nodded with understanding, though Helena could still detect a hint of frustration, of worry in her eyes. She gave Helena a half-smile, gesturing towards the road, “I can walk with you…” She chuckled softly, trying desperately to lighten the mood, “Ya know…keep you from getting lost.”

Helena didn’t know what made her say it. What it was about Myka’s words, her understanding, her willingness to just let Helena _be_ without pushing, but something in it caused a bubble of painful bitterness to pop in her chest, freeing her lungs to spit out words she didn’t even necessarily mean, “Please don’t make this harder than it already is, Myka.” 

Myka’s eyes widened, stunned, shocked at the sharp sullenness of Helena’s words, at the implication that all of this was somehow _her fault_. A grating scoff ripped its way through her throat, “Wow… _I’m_ making this hard…” She took a step back from Helena, hands held up in defeat, “Ya know what? _Fine_. Sure. Let’s go with that…I’m the one making this hard.” Myka closed her eyes, willing her words to not spill out but knowing that they were going to anyway. She felt all of her spite and frustration and hurt from the last two months boiling up in her stomach, ready to fly out and finally she just decided to let them. “If _trying_ goddamn desperately to be _normal_ is making this hard, then yes, _fuck_ , fine, I’m making this hard. I am trying so hard to figure out what exactly we’re doing here, Helena, and I am starting to get dizzy from all the circles we keep running around each other. We say we’re going to be friends, and then we spend the day together yesterday and it felt like a _date_. We say that this whole thing would be too hard but then it has never quite felt like we’ve stopped _trying_. You say that you can’t do this, but then you show up tonight looking like _that_ and how the hell am I supposed to feel? I don’t know what to say around you anymore, because everything feels like it’s so fucking _weighted_. Nothing is simple. Nothing is _friendly_. It’s all tangled up in double-meanings and saying one thing but meaning another, and God…I am so _tired_. I am _tired_ of working so goddamn hard to pretend that I don’t feel anything for you. It is exhausting pretending that this with us is just nothing. I told myself I was going to see what happened, just let it all play out and not let it get to me, but I can’t help it. You walk in and I am _done_ , completely sunk, and I don’t know…maybe that means I never should have suggested the friends thing, because…because I am _incapable_ of just being your _friend_ , Helena.” She sighed roughly, self-deprecating laughter raking through her throat, “Clearly that’s the case if a simple offer of a walk home is enough to cause all of this.”

“Myka…” Helena attempted to take a hesitant step forward, but halted half way there, returning to her spot, a respective distance away from Myka. “I’m sorry. I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”

Myka felt like venom was rising up in her throat, the weight, the stress, the emotional rollercoaster of the last two months finally coming to a head and leaving her incapable of controlling her brain, keeping it from saying everything her heart was shouting at the moment. She bit down a scoff, “You don’t know what to say? Seriously? I just spilled my guts out and you have _nothing_ to say in response? I think, honestly, that probably says everything you need to say in this situation.”

Fire flashed behind Helena’s eyes, her nostrils flaring slightly at the sharp inhalation of breath Myka’s words caused her to take. When she spoke there was a flinty chill to her voice, one that Myka had never heard before, “Please tell me that you aren't insinuating that this hasn't been hard for me too? Please tell me that you aren't saying you think that I have been totally fine this whole time? Because that's not fair.”

“ _You_ wanted this!” Myka was far past the point of rationality, past the point of keeping her voice, her emotions even and under control.

“ _We_ , we wanted this Myka. Don't you dare put this all on me. We both said it was too complicated.”

“Too much, too fast yeah I remember,” Myka nodded, fighting back an exaggerated eye roll.

“If you remember that, then you will also remember that _you_ walked away from me that night.” It was a low blow, an unnecessary barb thrown Myka’s way, a pathetic attempt to put some modicum of the blame that was getting tossed between them back onto Myka’s shoulders. Helena wasn’t proud of it, but she also wasn’t going to just back down and let Myka fling all of these words around without some sort of response.

“ _What_ was I supposed to do? There was nothing left to say.”

“Clearly you had a lot more to say if you are now claiming that all of this has been my idea.”

Myka stretched upheld hands out towards Helena, as if wishing she was capable of physically pushing herself out of the situation, “You know what? You're right...you're absolutely right. We both agreed on this but goddammit if now I don't think it was one of the worst decisions I have ever made because...because how can I stand here and say it was a good idea when in spite of the complication and the too much and the too fast I’m still...” Myka’s words died in her throat, her heart to brain filter finally kicking into gear at the most desperately needed moment. _Shit_ , Myka thought. She knew she had probably already said too much tonight, but now? Now she had most definitely crossed a line she never should have.

A heavy breath flooded out of Helena’s lungs, her brow knit in a combination of questioning and fear of _already knowing_ , “You're still what?”

Myka took a step backwards, wanting nothing more than to actually physically distance herself from the conversation, “Nothing. Nothing, because seriously if you think me offering to walk you home is making this hard then trust me when I say you do not want me to finish that sentence.”

“Do _you_ want to finish it?”

Self-deprecating, shocked laughter fled Myka’s lungs, “What does it matter if I do? It's not going to change one damn thing about this situation whatsoever. “

“So what? We're just stuck here?” 

“Apparently.”

“That's unacceptable to me.” Helena felt her spine straightening, steeling herself into some kind of solid mass that could withstand the force of all of this collapsing around her feet.

Myka groaned, her hands clenching and unclenching around the air in front of her, as if it might turn into something tangible that she get a grip on, “God... _what_ do you want me to say Helena? There's nothing else to do, to say because nothing has changed. This is where we are. This is what _we_ decided. So unless you've suddenly changed your mind about it then yes...this is where we are. We're friends...friends who flung themselves a bit too far forward without thinking.”

Hearing Myka say it so blatantly, that they had flung themselves too far forward, that maybe she now regretted them getting to this point left Helena breathless, feeling as though she were gasping for air with zero hope of recovering. She willed herself to remain calm, to do her best to detach from the moment, find the ability to just say whatever needed to be said to make this conversation end, “Maybe…maybe we’ve been foolish in thinking that we could go backwards after we let ourselves get so far forward. Maybe…maybe this was a mistake.”

Myka sucked in a shaky breath that felt like thousands of tiny daggers digging into her lungs. A mistake. That one word cut through her with the velocity of a storm surge. They had both promised that they wouldn’t end up regretting this, that no matter what happened they _wouldn’t_ regret whatever moments they had, and yet, here was Helena sounding as though she wished nothing more than to have been able to stop the summer before it even started. Myka felt a cold weight sink into her stomach, if Helena could detach from this, she could too. _She had to_. She shook her head, fighting back her tears, because she _would not_ cry about this. Slowly, steadily, she started walking backwards towards the porch, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this was one huge goddamn mistake.” She shook her head, unable to help herself from saying one last thing, “Just be careful going home…even on a tiny island it’s easy to end up _lost_.”

With that parting shot, that final subtle dig at how messed up their entire situation was, Myka turned and fled into the house, not even bothering to give vent to her anger with a slammed door, simply shutting it behind her with a deadened, definitive snap, leaving Helena standing stunned and devastated in the garden.

**

Myka finally collapsed into bed that night after staying at Jane’s far too late and being convinced to drink far too many beers by Wolly and Liam. Her brain felt fuzzy, her limbs simultaneously leaden and light. Trailer let out a huff at her feet, clearly as frustrated as a dog could be at her late return home and her less than stellar mood. She sighed, adjusting her foot slightly to rub against his head as best she could, “I’m sorry, bud. It’s been a spectacularly shitty night.” Trailer sighed again, shifting closer to Myka’s legs, his head nestling solidly across her ankles. Myka angled her body so that her arm could just reach his ears, “At least you love me…” She sighed, palming her forehead, “Self-pity is not a good look, Bering.” She reached a hand out to her nightstand, pulling her phone out of its charger and staring at the screen, going through the process of waking it up and letting it fall asleep ten times over. Finally, she opened up her messages, muttering, “This is such a bad idea. _Drinking_ is a bad idea. Texting after drinking is an even worse idea, and yet…” Her fingers flew across her screen, no longer thinking at her full capacity, just acting.

_Did you get home ok?_

“Innocent enough. I’m being polite.” She rubbed her forehead distractedly, willing her building headache to retreat, “ _God_ …I am never drinking with Wolly again.” She waited, her phone telling her that her message had been delivered, but adamantly refusing to offer up any signal that her recipient was interested in responding. Finally, she tossed it back onto the nightstand, “Stupid idea.”

Just as she was feeling herself drifting off to sleep, the light of her screen lit the room, a soft vibration reaching her ears. She grabbed it again, blinking against the brightness which caused a dull thump of pain to throb at her temples. She squinted, attempting to read the text before reaching for her glasses and slipping them gracelessly onto her face.

_I did…though it was a question. These straight roads that lead exactly where you need to go…they’re a challenge._

Despite being the one to start the conversation, Myka now had no idea what to say. Deep down she knew they needed to _not_ be having this conversation, not yet. It was too soon. Helena’s words from earlier were still too raw in her mind. She never should have started this…maybe she should just go to bed. Her phone vibrated softly in her hand again, pulling her attention.

_Myka…I am so sorry. I feel awful. Things got so woefully out of hand…  
And you’re right…I was the one who said that this was too hard…I did this…_

A mild clarity crept back into Myka’s mind, giving her enough sense of her thoughts to respond in a way that she hoped was coherent.

_No…we did this. You were completely right to call me out on that. This wasn’t a one-sided decision.  
We both decided that it was too complicated._

_I’m still sorry…  
Sorry for yelling, sorry for accusing you of making things hard, sorry for being so harsh when you were just being kind and gracious and so very you…_

Myka felt herself drifting off, but she desperately tried to fight against the exhaustion and alcohol racing through her veins. She needed to keep talking, _they_ needed to keep talking.

_I am too. We both said things we didn’t mean. Things are just so messed up…and I hate that.  
I also hate that I was, ya know, pretty obvious with how hot I thought you looked tonight._

Well…that wasn’t exactly what she wanted to say…apparently she wasn’t as coherent as she had thought. “Nice non-sequitar, Myka. Jesus…” The ellipses on her phone kept blinking, and she dreaded with each passing second how Helena was going to respond.

_I can’t say I exactly hated that._

_You looked…well, gorgeous doesn’t quite cover it really.  
If my choking on my drink didn’t make that clear…_

_We’re complicating things again, Myka….  
Flirting and acting like we didn’t say what we said to each other tonight._

_I know, but I’m not exactly thinking clearly at the moment so I’m just glad I haven’t entirely spilled my guts to you…again._

_What do you mean you aren’t thinking clearly?_

_Your best friend is a horrendous influence when it comes to alcohol and one’s consumption of it._

_Oh Jesus, yes he is. So what? That was a drunk text check in on my safety?_

_Possibly…_

_Well, that certainly explains the flirting._

_I’m sorry…I should go to bed. This conversation isn’t even remotely safe for me to be having. Lord knows what else I could say._

_Lord knows the things I could ask you…_

_Please don’t…leave me with some dignity. The drunk texting is embarrassing enough._

_I have to ask…did my best friend ply you with tequila?_

Myka felt her cheeks flare with heat. She needed to get out of this conversation. 

_No…trust me, if tequila was a factor we wouldn’t be having this conversation through text._

_Are you telling me that tequila would inspire you to show up at my door for this conversation?_

_I am._  
Tequila would inspire a lot of things, as you well know.   
Me and tequila and you would be a very, very bad combination.  
See? I have no dignity left whatsoever.  
God, I need to sleep. 

_Darling, you’re rambling. Flirting and rambling._

_No, flirting would be telling you that I really wouldn’t even need the tequila when it came to you.  
Fuck…ok…sleep…me…now…_

_Myka…  
God…as if tonight wasn’t disastrous enough…as if we haven’t complicated things enough…_

_I know._  
I’m sorry.  
Drunk me is very, very sorry. 

_It’s ok._  
Believe me…sober me isn’t minding the visuals that drunk you is inspiring.  
Sober me would be very close to telling you to just come over if you weren’t drunk.  
Sober me is wishing we could just say to hell with all of it… 

_I like sober you.  
Sober you has good ideas._

_And drunk you needs to go to bed, or I fear we will find ourselves going down a dangerous path, Myka, and I don’t want you to wake up with regret to go with your hangover._

_Bed is a good idea._

_Get some sleep…drink some water before you do so._

_Already have, but thanks for the reminder._

_Anytime._

Myka settled back against her pillows, her head swimming from the pace of the conversation and the numbness in her veins. She wanted to sleep, but she also wanted to say one more thing.

_Tonight…you said you missed me…_

Helena’s response was so immediate that Myka barely registered that she had been typing.

_I did. I do._

_For what it’s worth…I miss you too…pathetically so._

_You told me that already, darling._

_I know…but…but it bears repeating.  
Like I said, for what it’s worth._

_That…that’s worth everything.  
Good night, Myka._

_Good night…Nerd._

Myka tossed her phone back onto her nightstand, already worried that she might not remember this conversation in the morning. Yet, in the back of her mind she knew…when it came to Helena. She would _always remember everything._

**

“Oh my God, I hate Wolly.” Myka pressed her fingers into her temples, willing them to stop pounding.

“Ugh, you too?” Claudia slumped against the doorframe of Myka’s office, her eyes still shaded by her sunglasses.

“I am deeply regretting all my life choices right now.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s how all of us feel this morning. Well, other than Pete and H.G. Which, where the hell did she sneak off to last night?”

Myka slumped her head against the back of her chair, closing her eyes against the blinding fluorescents of her office, “Long story. Don’t ask.”

“Aye, aye,” Claudia gave Myka a mock salute despite the fact that Myka couldn’t see it, given her eyes shut tight position in her chair. “Ok, I’m going to go drink about a gallon of coffee and get the boys ready. Thank God I still have a few hours before my first tour.”

Myka pointed a finger in what she hoped was Claudia’s direction since she had no interest in opening her eyes to verify, “Coffee before you go anywhere near my horses, Claud!”

“On it, don’t worry.”

Myka heard Claudia leave the office, wondering if she was intentionally walking that heavily or if it was just the hangover wreaking havoc on her auditory impressions. She felt like hell. She had known from the second she went to bed last night that she would, but she hadn’t anticipated how much worse her hangover would be by virtue of rereading through her conversation with Helena from the night before. She remembered it, but that didn’t stop her from still being astounded at just how _obvious_ she had been. God…did she really have to tell her how hot she had looked?

“Oh dear…I had hoped that maybe the hangover gods would have left you be this morning. Apparently, I was wrong.”

Myka wasn’t sure if she had fallen asleep at her desk, if she was dreaming, or if Helena _was_ actually in her office talking to her. She cracked her eyes open a hair to check, only to be faced with Helena standing a bit hesitantly in her doorway. She sat up quicker than she should have, feeling a pulse behind her eyes at the quick movement, “Ow…ok, moving was a bad idea.”

Helena chuckled lightly, slipping her fingers over to the light switch and dousing the office into darkness, “That should help.” She stepped up to Myka’s desk, setting a large cup in front of her, “As should this.”

“What is it?” Myka lifted the cup up inspecting the contains which appeared to be very… _green_.

“Secret hangover recipe. I figured you might be in need of it this morning.”

“You are a saint.” Myka took a small sip to test both its taste and her stomach’s ability to handle it, ”Wow…that’s surprisingly good for looking kind of disgusting. No offense.”

Helena shook her head, “Oh no, you’re right, it looks bloody awful, but it should do the trick. You’ll be back up on your feet in no time.”

“Thank you, really.”

“You’re welcome.” Helena shifted from one foot to another, eyes stealing away from Myka’s, “Myka…I am sorry about yesterday. About all of it really, about our fight, about pushing you once I realized that you were in far too compromised of a situation to keep talking last night. Mostly, I’m sorry for how contrary I have been through all of this, pushing and pulling so much, wanting so much and then drawing back…I’m sorry for the mess we find ourselves in.”

“It’s no one’s fault, Helena. I’ve been right there with you, pushing, pulling, wanting. This is…this is just where we are.”

“Can I say that I hate that that is the case? That I hate all this uncertainty?”

“You can. I do too, but I’m not really sure what the answer is, nor do I think I’ll be able to figure it out in my current state.”

Helena nodded with a shy smile, “Of course, and I really need to get to work anyway. I just wanted to drop that off, and make sure that you were alright.”

“Thanks to you, now I think I’m good.”

“Wonderful. Have a good day…I’d suggest keeping the lights off for the foreseeable future.”

“Duly noted and tell Wolly I hate him.”

“I will be sure to deliver that message. Good-bye, Myka.”

Helena retreated out of the office before Myka could respond, but Myka was still able to follow her movements through the windowed walls that surrounded her office. Helena didn’t immediately steal back out the stable doors, but retreated towards the back, stopping to see Tesla and Farnsworth before she left. Myka watched as she offered them both sugar cubes, watched as Farnsworth leaned over his stable door and nudged his lips against Helena’s ear, watched as Helena laughed and ran her hands over his nose, leaving a kiss there as well. It looked too perfect. It _felt_ too perfect. Helena coming here, bringing her some magic hangover cure before work. It felt too normal, too easy, too much like they were something more than they were. Helena’s words from the night before resounded in her mind, pounding as hard as her headache, _Sober me is wishing we could just say to hell with all of it…_

Myka took another slow sip of her smoothie, an idle hope springing too brightly in her mind that maybe, just maybe, sober Helena would end up getting exactly what she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of Michigan-loving things...  
> 1\. The Lilac Festival is a really huge thing on the Island and it is absolutely gorgeous.  
> 2\. Traverse City, MI is located on the northwest corner of the Lower Peninsula and is known for its cherries. I hate cherries and even I love the ones from there.


	8. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena's past catches up with her and it leads to some......decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What has everyone been saying about a slow burn? 
> 
> All I'll say is enjoy and of course spew thousands of words of thanks to @MuddyPuppy for the continued beta-ing and awesomeness.

**Mason & Miller**  
Attorneys at Law  
713 D St. NW #100  
Washington, DC 20004

Dear Ms. Wells,

This letter is to inform you of the procedures our law offices are currently undergoing on behalf of Ms. Giselle Walker in order that you both might adhere to the law according to the Property (Relationships) Act. As you and Ms. Walker were in a cohabitating relationship for four years, your relationship is subject to the law according to de facto relationships and thus your possessions must be split according to ‘equal-sharing rules.’  
Ms. Walker is seeking an equal distribution of your shared assets, as well as willingly relinquishing all claims upon the property located at: 528 10th St. SE Washington, DC 20002. All shared possessions will be split between Ms. Walker and yourself at a time and place of your discretion.  
If you have any questions regarding this matter, please contact our offices. We may be reached at 202-944-8756. Thank you for your cooperation in this matter.

Respectively,

Jordan Holland, Esq.

**

“So wait, is she _suing_ you?” Wolly asked, mouth agape as he stared at the paper Helena had thrust into his hands the moment she had burst into his house already mid-rant.

“No, but she’s making it bloody apparent how we’re going to handle all of this.” Helena forced her fingers through her hair with a vigorous tug, continuing her relentless pacing across the floorboards of Wolly’s living room. She gestured towards the paper which Wolly was reading over for at least the fifth time, “I mean Jesus Christ, _she hired a lawyer_. Her point is pretty clear. We aren’t doing this amicably…apparently.”

Wolly passed a hand over his forehead, “I just don’t get it. I thought you guys had figured this out already. Your lease was up, neither of you wanted the townhouse, so there’s that. Didn’t you say you already took what you wanted and she had too?”

“ _Yes_. Six months ago, we had this all figured out. She took her stuff, I took mine, we didn’t renew our lease. End of story.”

“Then I don’t get it. I unequivocally do not get it. Why now? After all this time? Why hire some lawyer to tell you what you already know?”

Helena’s feet continued their track across the floor until coming to an abrupt stop, fists balled at her hips, shocked laughter rising in her throat.

“Hel?” Wolly asked hesitantly at the sudden shift in Helena’s mood.

Helena continued to laugh, hanging her head dejectedly, “I cannot believe I didn’t see it. I’m a bloody idiot. I mean…it’s _right there_.”

“What’s right there? Fill me in here, Hel, because I’m missing something.”

“She’s going to fucking marry him.” Helena felt tears unexpectedly welling in her eyes, though she couldn’t place _why_. She didn’t _care anymore_. She had ceased to care a long time ago. She had long since spent her last tears on Giselle, there was no reason to bring them back now.

Wolly’s eyes widened, “Who? _The senator_?”

Helena shot him an incredulous look, “ _Of course_ , the senator. Who the hell else?”

“Is she _insane_? Jesus, is _he_ insane? How would that look? Recently divorced Senator marries Chief of Staff. That’s a scandal just waiting to break.”

Helena gestured a finger towards the paper still in Wolly’s hand, “Hence the lawyers, William. He’s making sure that she’s covered from all angles so that I can’t get in the way, or out of nowhere make a fuss. They’ll have some bloody DC fixer come up with the right angle for how they both saved each other after their awful, destructive partners left them in pieces and they suddenly found love and peace together. I mean, Jesus, the story writes itself.”

Wolly shook his head, “The perfect plan. Why would anyone dare to bring up either of their rampant infidelities when there’s such a picture perfect story to tell? God, she’s a piece of work…there was never any doubt about that really, but still…this is something else entirely.”

Helena sank onto the couch, her hands coming up to cover her face, “She’s set herself up perfectly. All she has to do if anyone so much as _hints_ at their sleeping together prior to it being public is to get all teary-eyed for the cameras and rake me over the coals, tell the world that I slept with Nate, that _I_ was the one to sleep with my business partner first, and she was _so heartbroken_ and there he was, heartbroken too because his wife had left him, and they just _fell into each other’s arms_. Even if I cared enough to refute it, make it clear that they had been sleeping together pretty much from the moment he took office, before his divorce, before my _one_ infidelity, no one would listen. I’d be a voice in the crowd. They control the narrative now. That’s what these fucking lawyers are making sure of.”

Wolly shifted out of his seat and onto the couch, lifting Helena’s legs and draping them across his lap. He ran a hand up her shin, “So what are you going to do?”

“God… _nothing_ ,” Helena scoffed.

“Come on, you could fight this…you could keep her from doing this…”

“To what point or purpose?” Helena sighed, “It would do me no good to argue any of this. Plus, I want _nothing_ from her. The only thing that I would cause if I push back is more trouble for myself. Can you imagine what would happen to the restaurant if this got out? Wolly, people _love_ him, and she’s the goddamn darling of his campaign. She got him into office when no one thought it was possible. They’re a fucking Cinderella story, and it could _ruin_ the restaurant if Nate and I’s names start getting racked through the mud in the DC papers. I can’t do that to him, to us. No, there’s nothing else to do but roll over and let her do whatever the hell she needs to do.”

“I hate her,” Wolly bit out between gritted teeth, his face darkening into a look few ever saw. It was a look Helena knew well, the look he would get when he was a boy and would show up at her parents’ door after his parents had done whatever latest awful thing they could concoct; frustration, anger, and the need to fight something all written across his reddened face.

Helena reached out and gripped his hand, “Will…”

“No. I hate that she gets to do this. That _she wins_. She gets everything she fucking wanted despite the fact that _you_ were the one that got hurt.”

“It’s not that simple and you know that. I played my own part in this, William. I love you fiercely for ignoring that, but you know it’s true.”

“I don’t care. _A fucking lawyer_ , Helena? I mean…Jesus…” He threw the paper that was still clenched in his hand onto the floor. “I hate her. I absolutely and completely hate her.”

A faint glimmer of a smile touched Helena’s lips, “I guarantee you that somewhere in DC, he is telling her the same thing about me.”

“Yeah, well, I hate him too.”

Helena chuckled, sitting up to wrap her arms around Wolly’s shoulders, settling her head against his, “Oh William, ever my defender.”

Wolly tilted his head to press a firm kiss to Helena’s temple, squeezing her hand, “Are you going to be ok? Like seriously ok? Do you need to go back to DC? Because if you do, Hel, that’s ok. I can make that work. I can…”

Helena tightened her grip on his hand, stalling his words, “I am wonderfully perfect where I am. This letter…it isn’t even worthy of a response. I have the things I want from her, which wasn’t much to begin with. She can have the satisfaction of knowing that I’ve been legally informed of just where I stand, and we can leave it be. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not letting her ruin one more bloody thing in my life. If I left now…that’s exactly what she would be doing.” Helena couldn’t keep her mind from straying to Myka, to Myka who was most likely sitting right across Wolly’s yard in the comfort of her own house, to Myka who was so much of what Giselle wasn’t, to Myka who held so much promise of happiness…

As if sensing her thoughts, Wolly placed another kiss to Helena’s temple, his voice dipping into a tone of reassurance, “You don’t deserve any of this. You deserve _so much more_ than this.”

A soft waft of self-deprecating laughter fled Helena’s nostrils, “Yes well, according to Giselle, I got exactly what I deserved with all of this. Do remember, William, that this was all my fault.”

Wolly rolled his eyes, “I say again, I hate her. _Hate. Her_.”

Helena’s waved a dismissive hand, as if she could just swat her past away that simply, “It’s over. It doesn’t matter anymore. She is not worth one more ounce of my thought. If anything…she’s done me a favor with all of this…”

Wolly coughed around a burst of laughter, “How do you figure that?”

“Despite everything, despite how spectacularly all of this came crashing down around me, I, of course, have had my moments. My moments of wondering if this _was_ my fault, of wondering what could have been, of feeling the slightest tinge of missing her despite it all. This has put an unequivocal end to all of that. She’s given me my freedom to no longer _care_ , to finally, _finally_ , move on.”

“You should call her lawyer and tell him that. Tell him you wanted to thank him for his letter which freed you from her awfulness.”

Helena chuckled delicately, “Somehow, I don’t think that would help.”

“Maybe not, but it’d feel damn good.”

“Maybe, but for now, I think I’d just like to take a turn at seeing how good _being happy_ feels.”

Wolly took a deep breath, placing another, lighter kiss to Helena’s forehead, acutely aware of what she was referring to. He whispered against her temple, “You’ll get there, Hel. You’ll get there.”

**

Despite her assurances to Wolly that she was fine, that she just wanted to go home and get a decent night’s sleep with the prospect of not being awoken by an alarm since she was off the next day, Helena left Wolly’s house in a fog. On the one hand, she had come to utterly expect something like this from Giselle, their relationship having been nothing but an endless string of one dramatic gesture after another. Sometimes romantic, sometimes catastrophic. This was nothing new. Yet, the six months since their breakup had convinced Helena that it was truly over, that she no longer had to deal with the drama and the stress and the worry, but here it was, somehow able to chase her down across the miles of road and lakeshore. Somehow it was even able to reach her here, where she had started to feel like she was untouchable, as though the Island had become her own, perfect bubble, free from anything other than her life here. Today had been a stark reminder that that wasn’t the case. Her life was still out there. No matter how far she had run, it had still found her. No matter how she had tried to carve out her own niche of happiness here, her past pain was always waiting just a few moments behind, ready to remind her why happiness had always been so elusive. 

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice that she had strayed into the direct path of an oncoming bike until it was swerving around her, its rider muttering stray curses under his breath about people being more careful about where they were walking. She shouted an apology over her shoulder, digging her fingers into her forehead in frustration at her carelessness.

“Ya know, you can get arrested on this Island for reckless walking.”

It was like coming up for air, those few scant words winding their way into Helena’s ears on a lilting, teasing laugh. The hint of playful sarcasm beneath them, the smile she knew they were accompanied by. She felt like all of the breath she had been holding in, weighing her down, flooded out of her and returned to her lungs, lighter, freer. She stepped carefully onto the curb, her eyes immediately roving around to find Myka. 

If Myka’s voice had been freeing, seeing her was like floating into space without a care in the world. She was casually reclined in one of her porch chairs, her feet propped up against her porch rail, her curls riotous and cascading down her shoulders, her glasses catching the glinting light of the declining sun, a beer dangling between her fingers, a devastating, crooked smile on her face, in challenge and welcome to Helena’s sudden presence there on the edge of her lawn. 

Helena did her best to muster a smile to match Myka’s, her brain searching vigorously for an appropriate response, but merely coming up with a pathetic, “I’ll have to be more careful…I’m not suited for jail time.”

Myka chuckled timidly, while taking in Helena’s appearance, her demeanor in a matter of seconds. Myka’s smile softened, her feet coming down off of the railing with a light thud. She gestured towards the beer in her hand, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you, Helena Wells, look like you could use a drink.”

A worried pulse ripped its way through Helena’s stomach. This wasn’t a good idea. She felt bare and vulnerable, entirely too far open to whatever might get suggested by even the most innocent of offers such as the one Myka just gave her. Yet, looking at Myka…the way the sunset was bathing her in an ethereal glow, the way her smile was so knowing, so understanding, so _willing_. Hadn’t she just told Wolly she wanted to see how being happy felt? After all of this…didn’t she _deserve_ at least a modicum of happiness? She swallowed down all of her worries, all of her fears, and stepped fully onto Myka’s lawn with a bright smile, “That, Myka Bering, is the best offer I’ve gotten all day.”

They hadn’t seen each other since Monday, since Helena had dropped off Myka’s hangover remedy. They hadn’t even particularly spoken, just a few scattered texts about random things that had happened during their days, but nothing _substantial_. The cloud of their fight had hung over the intervening days with a weight that had made Helena wonder if they had finally, definitively hit the point of no return. So, stepping into Myka’s house for the first time, she feared that that weight would win out, that things would feel hesitant, off-kilter, uncertain. She feared that the comfortable balance she and Myka had operated with for the last two months would have finally found an end and catapulted them into spectacular awkwardness. 

Yet, stepping over the threshold, having Trailer barrel into her shins with a plea for attention, having Myka laugh over her shoulder while she reached into a cupboard for two glasses, taking in the sagging bookcases in Myka’s living room, the pictures all over the walls, the soft warmth of a house well lived in and loved, Helena didn’t feel awkward or uncertain. She felt like she had finally _come home_.

She watched as Myka fished a bottle out of the cupboard above her refrigerator, watched to the point of distraction as the hemline of her t-shirt rose just enough to reveal a thin strip of toned muscle, watched as she rocked back onto her heels wiggling a bottle of honey-colored scotch in her hand, watched as if she was witnessing her future play out in front of her eyes in some vain sense of insane _hope_.

Myka gave her a coy smile as she twisted the cap off of the bottle, tipping a heavy pour into both glasses, “Do not tell Wolly that I let you near this stuff. He usually insists that I keep it solely for him after he’s had a shitty day at work, but you look like this is a worthy occasion to break it out.”

Helena smiled gratefully as she took the glass Myka offered her from between dangled fingers, “My lips are sealed.” She took a testing sip, feeling the perfect burn of smooth, velvety bliss coat her tongue. She sighed happily, “Bloody hell that’s good.”

“Pap got Wolly hooked on the stuff, but it’s so damn expensive Wolly won’t buy it for himself, so I keep his stock for him.” Myka sank onto the opposite end of the couch from Helena, curling her legs up and under her, taking a slow sip of her own with a slight wince, “God, I forgot how strong this is.”

Helena laughed quietly, “You and alcohol need to develop a better relationship it would seem.”

Myka smirked slightly, “Yeah, well, beer is usually as strong as I go, so when I make an exception, it tends to kick my ass.”

“And what exactly does scotch bring out in you, since I already know about the tequila…”

A slight tinge of pink crept into the tips of Myka’s ears, but she kept her voice steady, “I guess we’ll have to see where the night takes us.”

They drank slowly amidst the quiet of Myka’s house, with only the soft whir of bikes going down the road and the heavy breathing of Trailer where he had promptly curled up between them on the couch and fallen asleep to keep them company. Myka kept up a steady study of Helena’s face, trying to discern what was filtering, fighting beneath the surface, waiting to see if it would reveal itself on its own, until she finally couldn’t resist the question, “So…care to explain what was going on in that head of yours that led to you almost getting taken down by a bike?”

Helena had fought back so ardently against telling Myka anything of her life _before_. She so desperately wanted her life here, even for these few months, to be something different, and to give Myka a glimpse of what had happened before she arrived on Mackinac’s shores, a glimpse of _who she had been_ before she had come here and rediscovered so much of herself was utterly terrifying. Yet, somehow, she knew that this very moment, the answer to Myka’s question was a critical point for _them_. If there was any last glimmer of hope left for them, no matter how many times they’d said they wouldn’t go there, then she needed to tell Myka everything. Myka needed to know and maybe by the simple virtue of expunging it all out of her heart and sharing it with Myka, Myka who was so generous and so good and so thoughtful, maybe, just maybe that was exactly what she needed to be rid of everything that was before and discover what could be _after_.

She took a careful sip of her scotch, not wanting to tip herself headlong into it prematurely. She rolled the tumbler between her palms, glancing up at Myka through shuttered lashes, “Do you ever have those moments where you feel like your past is just _right there_? Like no matter how adamantly you’ve sought to run from it, distance yourself from it, move on from it, it’s always right there nipping at your heels?”

A small bubble of laughter escaped Myka’s lips before her gaze retreated into something gentle, something deeper than just mere understanding. She glanced around the living room, “Helena, I live in the house my grandparents lived in for most of their lives. I work in the same office my grandfather worked in for decades. There are days where it feels like my entire past is written into the stones of this Island. There are days where I feel like all I’m doing is wandering around my past.”

A faint smile graced Helena’s lips, a little strained, a little hesitant, “And that right there, Myka, might be the greatest difference between you and I. You seem to revel in your past, even the hurt. You’ve let it sink into you indelibly because you know it’s made you who you are.”

“And that’s not you?”

Helena shook her head with a hint of dejection, “No. At least not recently. Recently, my past has been so checkered, so frustrating, so…disappointing that I’ve wanted nothing more than to forget it happened.”

“And I take it today forgetting wasn’t in the cards.”

“No. I had been doing so well. I was moving forward, figuring out what I wanted my life to be _from this point forward_ , and then, well, then my past just showed up at my door and reminded me of all the reasons why moving forward is so bloody hard.”

Myka’s eyes leveled Helena with a hard and fast stare, searching for answers that she found she _desperately_ wanted, despite not wanting to push, to pry them out. She wished she could just read them on Helena’s skin rather than making her have to say them out loud. She steeled herself for her next question with a quick drag of her scotch, “Is this where I finally hear about the ‘too much, too fast?’”

Helena couldn’t help the small puff of laughter that fled her lungs. She shot Myka a half-smile, the corner of her lip caught under her teeth in some odd mix of adoration for Myka’s honesty and awe at how well Myka seemed to know her already. She nodded slowly, “I was with someone, for quite awhile actually. Jesus…we were together for _four years_ , which somehow seems impossible to me. We met in a crazy haze of momentary infatuation that somehow fell into convenience…although we didn’t realize that until far too late, and by then, well, neither of us quite knew what to do about it. At that point…our lives were…comfortable, and sometimes being comfortable is compensation enough for being miserable.”

“Am I right in guessing that you no longer being with them is how Wolly convinced you to give a summer up here a shot?”

Helena smiled delicately, “He found that he couldn’t quite pass up the possibility that my life was ripe for a change of scenery, and I wasn’t inclined to disagree with him. I needed to get out of the city, away from everything my life was, everything it had become and rediscover my footing, rediscover who I was outside of this relationship that had been so much of my life.”

“What happened with…” Myka hesitated, uncertain how to proceed next. She didn’t want to make any assumptions, didn’t want to put a label on Helena that she wasn’t comfortable with because she knew how she felt when people had done the same thing to her. She sighed and simply pushed forward, “Her? Him?”

Helena’s smile brightened, somehow endeared even more by Myka’s clear desire to not jump to conclusions, “ _Her_ , but you don’t have to look so worried about the question, Myka. I’ve been with men and women, so it was a fair question.”

Myka flushed slightly, “Sorry, I just didn’t want to assume…”

“You’re fine, darling, trust me.” Helena cleared her throat slightly, “Anyway, yes, _her_. Giselle. We met at the restaurant. She was an up and comer in DC, and one night she and several colleagues had dinner at our place. One of them asked to be able to pay their compliments to Nate and I, Nate’s my business partner, and so we went out to the table, and honestly, I don’t really know how it all happened, but somehow I left the table with a date that turned quite quickly into a rather intense relationship. It became evident far too quickly for either of us to admit that we were horrible for each other, but we couldn’t quite keep ourselves from coming back to it, until eventually we were living together despite not truly knowing _why_.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound pleasant.” Myka grimaced at the bluntness of her tone, “Sorry, apparently scotch makes me _honest_.”

Helena chuckled, “It’s quite alright. You’re right, we were miserable, but we found a myriad of excuses to ignore it. At that point, the restaurant was truly taking off, my hours were ridiculous, I was barely home, and neither was she. A little less than a year after we moved in together, she took over a campaign for a man in Maryland who few thought had any chance of getting elected to the Senate. We didn’t really see each other much, and when we did…well…” Helena felt her cheeks pinking and she was unable to meet Myka’s eye, “Well, those are details you don’t quite need. Needless to say, we found convenient excuses to convince ourselves that we worked, because _certain things_ worked.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t need to be blushing at the prospect of telling me you’ve slept with other people, Helena. At this point, I think your answer around the fire now makes a hell of a lot of sense. The Capitol building?”

Helena laughed lightly, “Right.” She ran a hand through her hair, “Anyway… _regardless_ of that facet of our relationship, it wasn’t enough. It certainly wasn’t enough when it became readily apparent to me that she was sleeping with the man whose campaign she was running.”

“Boy, there’s a cliché if I’ve ever heard one.” Myka closed her eyes and shook her head with a sigh, “See? I told you…honesty, and I’ve barely had a drop of this stuff.” She set her tumbler down on the coffee table with a definitive clink, “That’s enough of that for me. Pap always said I couldn’t hold my scotch, and I have no desire to test those limits tonight.”

Helena placed her own glass on the table, “That is probably a wise choice for both of us. Don’t tell Wolly I wasted it though.”

“I wouldn’t dare think of it.”

As Helena pondered her next words, she felt a lump rise in her throat, unyielding, unwavering. She couldn’t bear to think of telling Myka the next part. She ran her fingertips over her forehead, leaning her head against her palm, “I hate to think what you’ll think of me after you hear all of this, Myka.”

“You can tell me, Helena. Like you said, it’s in the past, right?”

“I can only hope.” Helena took a deep breath, willing herself to just say it and get it over with, “I know I should have left. It was clear we didn’t love each other, but again, comfortable, convenient. We were in so deep I didn’t know how to get out, and so while I was livid that she was cheating, I also didn’t quite _care enough_ that she was. We would fight about it, scream and yell and claim that everything was fixed and then everything would go right back to the way it was. We would pretend we were happy, talk about foolish future plans, marriage, settling down, but deep down, I knew, nothing had changed, she was still working for him, she was with him all the time. And the reality was, what did it matter? We barely saw each other, so did it really matter whose bed she was climbing into?”

“I would have tossed all of her shit out on the curb, which also isn’t particularly healthy so I can’t really judge.”

Helena grinned, somehow buoyed by how easily Myka was hearing all of this, seemingly without judgment. She sighed, “Would you believe that _I_ was the one that ended up with my things on the front steps?”

Myka’s eyes widened, “How the hell…”

“Convenient misery leads to horrible decisions, Myka. In the midst of our myriad of fights, Giselle always felt she was justified in her infidelities because she was convinced I was sleeping with Nate.”

“Were you?” 

Again, Myka’s bluntness was refreshing, rather than frustrating to Helena’s ears, “All the times she accused me? No. Nate is a friend, a dear friend. We built our business together, so of course we are close, but it had never come to that.”

“Why do I feel like there’s an until coming?”

“Because there is…as things progressed, Giselle stopped being as discreet as she used to with her boss, and one night I found this ridiculously expensive diamond necklace in her purse. She claimed it was nothing, a thank you gift for all of her hard work,” Helena rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. “We had a huge fight. She stormed out, I wasn’t thinking, and I was so horrendously stupid. I called Nate. He came over. One thing led to another, and well…the one time she actually came home after a fight…”

Myka sighed with a hint of a groan, “I can’t imagine that went well.”

“No. It was awful. She was convinced this was proof that I’d been sleeping around the whole time, even though I hadn’t been. She turned everything around, said that it was my hours that made things so hard for us. She accused me of being selfish, of being self-centered, only caring for my own career. Every awful thing you can imagine saying to a person she said, and at that point I was so disappointed in myself and so unhappy that I believed it. I let her kick me out. It all imploded sufficiently after that.”

Myka attempted to wrap her mind around everything Helena had just told her, tried to reconcile the history with the woman who had come to the Island seeming a bit lost, but still put together. She leveled a curious gaze at Helena, “When was this, Helena?”

“Six months ago.”

“Jesus…” Myka sighed, “So, when you got here…it’d been what? _Four months?_ Four months after four years of that?”

“You can see where the Island escape seemed like a pretty good option.”

“I just…you’ve seemed so…”

“Happy?”

Myka chuckled, “Yeah…if I were in your shoes I don’t think there would be enough scotch in the world.”

Helena shrugged, “Honestly? The first two months were terrible, but eventually I forced myself to face the truth of how unhealthy things had been and I realized I was well shod of her. Sure, in some twisted way, I still missed her, missed that…companionship, I suppose you would call it, but I ended up being quite thankful to have it be over.”

“Until today?”

Helena nodded, “Until today.” She pulled the crumpled up piece of paper she had gathered up from Wolly’s floor from her pocket and handed it to Myka, “I received this in the mail today.”

Myka’s eyes scanned quickly over the paper, a small crinkle developing between her eyebrows as she read it over and over in an attempt to comprehend what was in her hands. Finally, she casually tossed it onto the table between their abandoned glasses, “So, let me guess. She’s marrying the Senator and wants to make sure that you aren’t able to fuck anything up?”

Helena’s jaw hung ajar at Myka’s immediate perception of the situation before shaking her head with an incredulous smile. _Of course_ , Myka would get it. Myka seemed somehow made to utterly and completely understand everything about her life without question or mystery. Myka _saw_ her, saw her _life_ , and never once backed away from it. Helena reached out, grasping the paper from the table. She gave it one last cursory glance. She didn’t have any questions. She _didn’t want anything_ from Giselle. It was over. It was done. She crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it carelessly into Myka’s fireplace.

Myka chuckled, “I’ll make a fire later and take care of that for you.”

“It’s appreciated.”

“So…” Myka gave her a hesitant look, “are you ok, with the whole her marrying him thing?”

Helena shrugged, “I have found that I don’t really care, honestly. Once I put together what that letter was obviously saying, I actually felt somewhat…relieved. I can’t explain why…”

“Because it’s over. Completely. Even though it hurts, to _know_ it’s done, it’s a good feeling.”

Helena arched an eyebrow at Myka in question, “Speaking from experience?”

A faint smile touched Myka’s lips, “When Sam left, he forgot some of his stuff. He wasn’t always the most diligent with that type of thing, and I was so upset I didn’t really pay much attention. So, I just kind of sat here with a whole box of his stuff, and even though it was tucked away where I couldn’t see it, _I knew it was there_. The next time he came up to visit his mom he came and got it, and while it hurt to see him, the second that box left this house, it was like… _now I’m totally free_.”

“It’s funny how heartbreak and freedom sometimes feel like the same thing…”

Myka gazed at Helena for a brief second, caught somewhere between smiling and frowning, trying to take in the emotions that were still warring across Helena’s face. Myka untangled one of her legs out from under her and kicked it over Trailer, nudging her toes against Helena’s knee, drawing Helena’s attention away from where she had been staring at the crumpled up ball in the fireplace. Helena met her gaze evenly, but expectantly. Myka smiled warmly, “You told me once that Abigail was an idiot. I’m returning the favor, although I’m not sure idiot even comes close to describing what I think about this woman at the moment.”

Helena hung her head with a self-deprecating laugh, “Yes, well, I believe my response to that is the same as yours was to me. Idiot though she might be, I am too. I wasted so much time, Myka. _I knew she was cheating_ , but I didn’t do anything about it. I let myself be miserable. I decided that convenience was easier than being comfortable or happy. _Idiotic_.”

“Well, I’m just going to say it, the obvious, too honest thing…”

“That’s usually Wolly’s job,” Helena cut in.

Myka’s lips quirked up in a small smile, “True. I guess I’ve drank his scotch, might as well live up to the reputation. I don’t get how _anyone_ could do that to you…how someone could be so stupid to not see what they have right in front of them.”

Helena’s heart thudded heavily in her chest. She so desperately wanted to tell Myka that she agreed, that she had done everything she could to keep things afloat for her and Giselle, put forward the best possible effort. Her fingers twirled around the fringe of a blanket hanging over the back of Myka’s couch, eyes adamantly focused on those movements so as not to have to look at Myka, “I…I did my own fair share of idiotic things, Myka. I can in no way claim complete innocence. In so many ways…in so many ways I don’t know how to explain…I feel as though the last few months have transformed me into someone completely different. Like the person I was with Giselle… I don’t even know who that person is anymore.”

“Is that a bad thing?” It was asked calmly, evenly, with no hint of accusation or assumption, just a simple, open question.

Helena’s teeth chased over her lip tightly, feeling the blood rush through it, “I don’t think so…though what that means for my life, I’m not quite sure yet.”

That vain, damnable hope that always seemed to reemerge when Helena was right in front of her, crept back into Myka’s chest, filling her, making her worry she might implode from the pressure. She so desperately wanted to say something about how Helena had hinted before about no longer being happy in DC, how maybe being _here_ had played a role in her figuring out what her life was meant to be, how maybe _here_ was where she could be happy. She swallowed each and every syllable back down, letting them sink into her stomach along with that pitiful weight of hope. Sighing, she said, “You’ll figure it out. What it takes to be happy…new version of you and all.”

“Hopefully,” Helena whispered out.

A calm, steady silence descended around them, clinging to the darkened corners of Myka’s living room, enveloping them in a strange sense of peace, like it was always meant to be there, like _they_ were always meant to be there, just like this. Together in the abiding, comforting silence of a _home_. 

“Do you ever get lonely?” The words leapt off of Helena’s tongue of their own volition, shattering the silence, but somehow not the comfort of the moment. They’d come so far in such a short period of time that Helena felt the time was long since passed when there was such a thing as a question best left unasked between her and Myka. 

Myka gave her a bemused look, an odd mix of curiosity and amusement dancing in her eyes, “I feel like we’ve had this conversation before…but somehow I feel like you’re asking me a _different_ question this time.”

Helena sighed, leaning her head against her palm, her elbow propped up on the back of the couch, “Maybe I am…I don’t really know what I’m asking.”

“Loneliness is an odd thing up here…it kind of feels like part of the deal of living here full time, it’s just something that happens. But I don’t know…and maybe I’m repeating myself from our other conversations, I just…this place, the Island, it’s always felt like _home_. I know my place here and that’s comforting. Sometimes though…sometimes it hits me like a ton of bricks. Sometimes it’s when it’s the dead of winter and it’s just me and Trailer and three feet of snow outside, then it’s a little too quiet to be anything but lonely. Other times…the _worst_ times…are the times I never expected to feel lonely. I mean, I always figured the summers…they would be busy enough, crazy enough that I’d never notice it, but sometimes they’re the hardest. When we’re all together and I realize that I’m one of the few without anyone next to me…it’s hard, and yeah, I’ve never been the kind of person who defines myself by someone else, I’ve never been the type of person that feels like I _need_ someone else, but sometimes I can’t help it. I see Pete and Kelly, Steve and Liam, and it just kind of hits me…that I want that.”

Helena was helpless to keep her eyes from boring straight into Myka’s, taking in the bare honesty of her words. She fought against the lump in her throat and forced words out, “I think in many ways that’s what convinced me to stay with Giselle for as long as I did…she was _there_. That steady sense of companionship, broken and flawed though it was, felt like it was worth it because it staved off the loneliness. I’ve never been a person who is good at being alone, I tend to get too caught up in my own thoughts when I am, and I don’t always enjoy that feeling. So I stayed…convincing myself that being unhappy, not being content, well, it was fair compensation for not being _lonely_. These past few months…being alone…but being _happy_ …it’s made me realize that I’d rather be lonely than discontented.”

Myka laughed softly, “Wow…I mean _I get that_ , like on a cellular level I get that, because the thing that I always tell myself when those moments of loneliness creep in is that at the end of the day _I’m happy here_. More than anything I’m _content_ here, and that somehow makes up for the loneliness at times.”

“So what do you do when you’re both lonely _and_ not quite content?”

“Are you saying you aren’t content here?” Myka asked, willing her voice to not betray the trepidation she felt in the face of whatever answer she might receive.

Helena flashed a devastating smile, “Honestly? I can’t remember a time when I was _more content_ than I am here. My question was more forward thinking…more bred out of my fear for what happens when I go back to DC.”

_Then don’t go_. Myka wanted so badly to say it, to _scream_ it, but she didn’t. She swallowed thickly, “You told me once that you’d never felt like you were at _home_ anywhere. I would say the best step towards combating both the loneliness and the discontent is finding that place. It’s amazing how quickly everything falls into place once you do.”

Helena nodded slowly, “Wolly would say that my problem is that I’ve always had a bit of a wandering heart, never quite content to stay in one place long enough to make it _home_ …”

“I would say what I said that day standing in the lake, that you just haven’t found the place where your wandering can rest yet, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t out there.”

_It’s with you_. But it was too soon for thoughts such as those Helena reminded herself. She still wasn’t sure if this _was_ home, if it even _could be_ , or if this Island was just another temporary stop over in her wandering, another place where she was moderately content for a moderate amount of time, until it wasn’t enough again. “Giselle told me once that she thought I was incapable of being happy…” She had no idea what made her say it; she’d never even told Wolly that, but there was something about Myka that made her want to just say, confess, spill every thought she’d ever had.

“Jesus…” Myka groaned, “I’m fairly certain I hate this woman, just so you know because that’s…that’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard. To me that sounds like a convenient thing to say to the person you’re making unhappy. If you turn it around on them, then you don’t have to face the fact that their unhappiness is your own fault.”

“Thank you for that. It’s taken me the better part of these last few months to realize, to come to terms with the fact that I wasted four years of my life with a woman who never truly _saw_ me, who certainly had no desire to do so. She saw what she wanted to see…selfish, self-centered, clinically unhappy. She never wanted to see anything else.”

“Do you want to know what I see?” Myka let the words flow out of her like they were vital to the oxygen in the room, like they were words Helena needed to hear to survive. Helena’s gaze never faltered from her own, silently pleading their assent. Myka smiled softly, “I see someone who has way more heart than anyone I’ve ever experienced. Someone who bakes because they want everyone to love sugar. Someone who has a never-ending well of nerdy references. Someone who willingly wades into freezing water just so she can say she _experienced it_. Someone who sneaks horses sugar cubes when she thinks their owner isn’t watching.” Myka arched a playful eyebrow Helena’s way at that admission, the admission that she had _seen_ her do it. She knew she was trying to come off as playfully annoyed, but knew she the only thing she was showing was how utterly enamored she was by all of it. She breathed out carefully, “I see someone who is fierce and protective and loving and snarky and caring and open and so many goddamn other things that we could be here all night if I keep naming them.”

Helena felt tears rim her eyes. That was who she _wanted_ to be, and if Myka actually _saw_ that in her…she couldn’t think of anything greater. She cleared her throat roughly, “Has anyone ever told you that were something else, Myka Bering? Something else entirely incredible?”

Myka’s shining, crooked, half-smile overwhelmed her face, “It’s been known to happen on occasion.” Her smile retreated into something softer, “I mean it though, Helena. Every word.”

“I know you do, and I appreciate it…deeply.” Silence returned thick and fast around them, threatening to swallow them whole with all the maybes and what ifs and why nots that hung in the air between them. Helena’s own words from earlier in the week raced through her mind, _sober me is wishing we could just say to hell with all of it…_ Never before, in all the moments she and Myka had shared, had she so desperately wanted to _not care_ about what happened next, about consequences and fallouts and the future. Never before had she wanted to just _dive_. Yet, what she wanted to say, _“to hell with it,”_ came out instead in an apologetic, “I should get home…let you sleep…” She gave a cursory glance at Myka’s mantle clock, taking in how late it had gotten. She had the day off tomorrow, but Myka certainly didn’t. She shifted her feet out from under Trailer’s weight slowly, careful to not disturb his sleep, smiling sheepishly at Myka, “I didn’t mean to let it get this late.”

Myka smiled, but there was sadness behind it, “You know I don’t mind.” Myka stood quickly, reaching a hand out to wrap around Helena’s wrist, “At least let me ride back with you.”

Helena’s eyes flashed in recognition of the offer, how similar it sounded to the other night in Jane’s garden, acutely aware of how different this felt, desperate to not let this offer go to waste, to not let it spiral out of control like the other one had. She hedged her answer, giving herself a few more seconds to gather her thoughts, “I walked up here.”

Myka shrugged, “I have an extra bike that you can use. There is _zero_ need to _walk_ all the way back to Mission Point.” She reached for her flannel shirt that was strewn across the back of one of the armchairs, tugging it on, ready to go.

Helena tried a small attempt at hesitation, but it was half-hearted, “ Myka…you have to work tomorrow…”

“Yeah, but _it is late_ , and I know it isn’t that far, but until you get to town it’s ridiculously dark…and I just…I don’t care about tomorrow…I can spare the little bit of time it will take to get you home.”

Something shifted, sped up, and settled within Helena’s chest, something that told her to take this offer, _take this chance_. She smiled brightly, “Then by all means I welcome the company.”

They rode in silence, keeping an easy pace, neither of them willing to betray the fact that their legs wanted nothing more than to race as fast as possible to wherever the end of this road took them. Myka tried her best to keep her mind focused on the little things around her, the wind flowing through her curls, the soft waft of lilac still filtering through the air even though the blossoms were starting to fade, anything but the way that her heart seemed to be speeding up to match the thrum of her wheels against the road. Usually, the ride from Harrisonville to Mission Point felt _interminable_ , having to maneuver down the Grand Hotel hill at something less than a breakneck speed, only to get to the bottom and then have to weave through all of the tourist traffic of Main Street. It was always a trial by fire that ride, avoiding carriages, pedestrians, and other bikes, but tonight, Myka wasn’t sure she’d ever known time to disappear so quickly.

“I’ll get this back to you tomorrow,” Helena stated as she locked up the bike Myka had loaned her next to her own bike.

Myka waved a dismissive hand, slowly stepping off of her bike only to find her legs unexpectedly wobbly, “No rush. Like I said, it’s an extra.”

Helena smiled to herself as she stepped onto her porch, hearing Myka’s footfalls behind her. She turned at her door, trying to contain the emotions that felt like they were ready to fly out of her, fling her headlong off of a very unknown cliff. Idly, she thought that these few hesitant moments felt so akin to when Myka dropped her off after their first day of biking together, that first tour, that first time actually spending time together, the first time that Helena _knew_ for certain that this thing with Myka was so much more than just infatuation. 

Myka drew in a deep breath and leaned against the porch railing, tipping her head against the sturdy beam next to her, watching Helena fiddle nervously with her keys, making absolutely no move to actually _use_ said keys, giving no indication that she had any desire to go inside. Myka didn’t want to read anything into this pause, this very weighted pause, but she knew where her mind was, and couldn’t help but hope that Helena’s was there too. Something was different. Something had shifted. Something seemed to have changed, just by simple virtue of the fact that Helena hadn’t turned down _this_ offer of company on her way home. A glimmer of a smile tugged at Myka’s lips, “Are you going to be ok?”

Helena tried in vain to smile, but felt it fall into a grimace. She did all she could to not focus on Myka, the way her glasses had once again tipped a bit down the bridge of her nose, the casual mess of her curls, that damned half-smirk. Everything about her sent heat coursing through Helena’s blood, heat that was desperately trying to convince her to _move_. In an effort to stem the tide of that heat she did her best to direct her answer to the woodwork right above Myka’s head. She let out a sigh that felt bone-deep and weary, “I believe so, but…I am so tired of being unhappy, Myka.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Myka asked calmly, steadily, without budging from her spot on the porch. It was a push, a very obvious push, but one she was only willing to make with her words, the rest had to be up to Helena. Myka could only take them so far. 

The air between them felt thick, heavy with all the words they were refusing to say, all the words they’d already said and had spent the last two months ignoring, and Helena wondered how they’d come this far without breaking under the pressure. She was tired of talking. She was tired of fighting against this. She _did_ want to be happy, and Myka made her happy. She was utterly convinced of that. Finally, she let her gaze drop to meet Myka’s. There was something deliciously hopeful and _wanting_ in the eyes that met hers. Hesitantly, she took one step forward, watching the way Myka practically leaned into the motion. The space between them felt too vast and she couldn’t bridge it fast enough, so rather than try Helena opted to reach out and pull Myka over it. She tugged at the open edges of the flannel shirt Myka had thrown on over her t-shirt before they’d left the house, drawing her forward fast and hard.

It could have been a graceless and stumbling move, but Myka was so ready for it, so willing to give in to it, that they rushed together in one fevered motion, lips colliding in a hungry rush, trying to make up for all the time they had wasted _breathing_. Helena’s fingers were gripped so tightly around the fabric of Myka’s shirt that she could feel her own nails digging into her palms. Each of Helena’s senses felt acutely overloaded. Her ears flooded with the sound of Myka’s relieved sigh; the rich warmth of Myka’s perfume which carried the vague hint of hay with it inundated her nostrils; the darkness behind her closed eyelids overwhelmed with flashes and images of all the time it took to get them _here_ ; her lips a distracted mess of sensation at finally kissing Myka without one hint of hesitation; the firm reassuring heat of Myka’s hands splayed out at the small of her back, already beneath the thin fabric of her shirt, pressing into muscles and skin. It was all so much that Helena feared her knees might buckle at any moment.

A keening moan rose out of Myka’s throat as Helena’s tongue slipped into her mouth for the briefest, most heavenly of seconds, until Helena pulled away, whispering against Myka’s lips, “Come inside…”

They were many things all at once, those two words, a question, a request, a demand, a plea, but Myka didn’t particularly care which Helena meant it to be. All she cared about was giving into it, responding to it as fast as humanly possible.

The gracelessness of their haste caught up with thme once they were inside, firmly ensconced behind closed doors and shuttered windows, where they could finally give in to the cascading inevitability of this moment without the prying eyes and curiosity of tourists who could have witnessed them out in the open on Helena’s porch. They were a tangled, fumbling mess of hands and limbs as they stumbled through Helena’s living room, each attempting to toe off their shoes and whatever clothing was closest at hand, while adamantly refusing to slow the movement of their lips or fingers. Each kiss dissolved and faded into the next with only the faintest of breaths in between, even while sharp exhalations were pulled out of their lungs but the sharp tang of fingernails on skin, pressing, pushing, _begging_ to just keep going. 

Finally, Helena allowed her fingers to release their grip around Myka’s shirt if only to put them to better use by tugging the shirt down, off, away from Myka’s body, tossing it without thought far from their scrambling feet. Her fingers danced under the fabric of Myka’s shirt sleeves, tracing over defined muscles and absorbing the pulsing heat that was coming off of her skin. 

Myka was trying desperately to not get lost in the feeling of Helena right underneath her palms, the way that each of Helena’s muscles seemed to curve and adapt to fit her hands, as though the slant of her hips, the dip of her back had simply been _waiting_ for Myka’s hands, molded and shaped to be the perfect resting places for Myka’s skin against hers. Myka’s lungs were burning for air, screaming for one scant second of respite, her heart thudding almost painfully in her chest as her blood churned with an overwhelming sense of want and _relief_. She willed herself to pull away for one small second, to suck in a breath and collect her bearings, her head coming back to thud against the solidity of a wall behind her. A small exhalation fled her lungs, some odd mix of surprise and laughter, having been entirely too caught up in the moment to even realize that Helena had backed her up against the wall by the stairs. She attempted to get her tongue to wrap around coherent thought, but just as she felt words rising up in her throat, Helena tilted her head with a devious smirk, shifting, pressing her harder against the wall, her fingertips slipping under her shirt to scratch against her ribs, her lips moving to mouth kisses against her jaw. Each of Myka’s vain attempts at words disintegrated, disappearing into thin air on a low-pitched keen, drawn out by the scrape of Helena’s teeth against her skin, tracking down her throat with enough pressure to make Myka feel every movement.

Helena’s hands shifted, pushed impatiently against the fabric of Myka’s shirt. Myka could feel the quick twitch of Helena’s fingers, as though she wanted nothing more than to tear the damn thing in half just to have it _gone_ , but some small semblance of restraint seemed to win out as Helena’s hands disappeared from her skin just long enough to fling the thin fabric behind them, to be lost amongst their other scraps of discarded clothing, as well as every last ounce of their inhibition and control. 

A shivering chill had raced over Myka’s skin at the removal of Helena’s hands, only to be replaced by a stronger, more fervent flush and flare of heat, somehow hotter than before at their return; Helena’s nails scraped against the muscles of her back as lips once again found her throat. That tiny moment of pause had been all Myka needed to find her ability to speak again, her fingers sliding through Helena’s hair, scratching against her scalp and eliciting a pleasurable hiss which Myka felt against her pulse. She tipped her head enough to let her lips fall against Helena’s ear, attempting to pitch her voice low, but her words escaped on a sigh, a suddenly desperate sigh, “Where’s your bedroom?”

A throaty chuckle wound its way into Myka’s ears, travelling straight through her abdomen and leaving blossoming tendrils of heat in its wake. The tip of Helena’s tongue skated up her pulse before her teeth sank into Myka’s earlobe with a playful pinch, “Impatient are we, darling?”

Myka’s sigh got caught around a moan as Helena’s hands drifted down into her back pockets pulling them closer together, “Impatient is a bit more polite than what I was thinking actually.”

Helena chuckled again, apparently utterly amused at Myka’s blatant _want_. She shifted, bringing her lips within millimeters of Myka’s, their shared, scant breath racing across already reddened, swollen lips and whispered while pulling Myka impossibly closer, “Desperate then? Longing? Wanting?”

Myka couldn’t keep her eyes from fluttering shut, her entire body from betraying her with a violent shudder, her breath skittering out of her throat roughly. When she found her voice, it was the embodiment of her desire weakened knees, “Any…any of those…is…accurate.”

“You’re trying so hard to keep it together aren’t you…”

Myka’s eyes rolled behind her closed lids, “And I’m beginning to think you’re trying to kill me…”

“ _Never_ …However, I would be lying if I said that seeing you like this...”

The sudden urge, the _need_ to know how Helena was looking at her in this moment overcame Myka so violently that her eyes snapped open quickly, “Seeing me like what? _Wanting_ …”

“Yes,” Helena sighed, shifting her hands out of Myka’s pockets to wrap around her hips, squeezing experimentally, reveling in the hard, fast twitch the movement elicited.

“ _Desperate_ …”

Helena’s teeth bit the corner of her lip, her head starting to swim with her own want, her own desperation, yet she didn’t want to stop this exchange, hearing Myka’s voice like this just yet. She shifted her fingers to slip into Myka’s belt loops, tugging, “Yes.”

Myka smothered a chuckle at how quickly Helena’s desperation was starting to mirror her own, despite Helena’s clear attempts at control. Myka tipped her chin forward catching Helena’s lips fast and hard, pulling away before Helena seemed even remotely aware of what had happened. Myka smirked, “Impatient?” And this time it was more a question of _Helena’s_ state, than an indication of Myka’s.

Helena sighed heavily, her thumbs pressing tightly against the dips in Myka’s hip bones, “ _Yes…_ ”

“Then do something about it… _bedroom_ …”

Helena let out a low groan, some heady mix of pleasure and tangled up frustration at how quickly Myka had turned the tables on her. She pulled away from Myka, slipping her hand into Myka’s and tugging her away from the wall and towards the stairs. 

It was a slow, torturous stumble up, every few steps one of them stopping because… _impatience_ …and somehow these few steps seemed far too far away from where they wanted to be already. Myka pulled them up short when they’d barely gone a few feet, Helena hovering precariously on the step above her, but Myka couldn’t resist the urge to stop, to pause, her mouth hungry to discover the notches of Helena’s spine, the subtle curve of her back. Halfway up, Helena’s feet halted, pulling Myka up to the step she was on, her fingers disappearing in Myka’s mess of curls, her lips too long separated from Myka’s and needing nothing more than to feel them hot and ravenous underneath her own. They both halted together near the top, Helena collapsing back against the wall, Myka’s lips roving across every inch of skin within reach while her fingers slipped beneath the tongue of Helena’s belt, tugging it free, the button of Helena’s jeans slipping open under her fingers’ determination. 

There was something about the tremulous sigh that fled Helena’s lungs in that moment, in that moment when Myka’s fingernails were barely tracing against her lower abdomen, their intention clear, that brought Myka up shor for the faintest of seconds. Her hands settled carefully up around Helena’s ribs, thumbs smoothing along the bumps and ridges of bone and muscle, bringing her forehead down to rest against Helena’s, biting down on her lip to keep herself _in check_ if only for a few more seconds. 

“Should…should we slow down?” Myka whispered, unsure if those were words she should even be entertaining, given the _impatience…desperation…wanting…_

Fingers tucked under Myka’s jaw drawing her forward into a brief kiss, a mere ghost of lip against lip, more of a stalled second of breathing together than a kiss before Helena spoke, her voice even and certain, though there was still an edge of _desire_ threaded through each syllable, “We have spent so much bloody time _breathing_ …” That elicited a tiny chuckle from Myka, a chuckle that Helena’s lips immediately swallowed in a harder, more hurried kiss, “There will be _plenty_ of time for slow…later. Right now…” Helena’s hands drifted from Myka’s jaw to scratch down her back, “Right now, I can’t think about slow…I can’t even _fathom_ slow…I want this, I want _you_ too much.”

Myka felt a surge of heat flood through her, readily evident in the river of reddened skin that bloomed in her cheeks and raced down into her chest. She felt suddenly shaky, her entire nervous system overridden with more want than she could ever remember experiencing before. Her fingers dragged down Helena’s stomach, feeling muscles quivering dangerously beneath her touch, and she tucked her thumbs back into the space between Helena’s jeans and skin, delighted satisfaction dripping out of her words, “Slow _later_ then…”

Helena tipped her hips up and into Myka’s touch, encouraging, tempting, “Yes, darling. Slow later… _much_ later.”

In the back of her mind, Myka was actually impressed that they _made it_ to the bed after that. Their previous rush and fever returning with a high-pitched intensity as they literally _fell_ into Helena’s bed, an utter tangle of limbs, hands racing and roaming, unable to stay in one place for too long, but needing to be everywhere at once. It was something that Myka had never experienced before, this need, as she unveiled inch after torturous inch of Helena’s skin underneath her, to map _every_ part of someone’s skin, to feel every scrap of it beneath her lips and fingertips. As much as she wanted to _rush_ , as much as she simply _wanted_ , she couldn’t bring herself to race past _this part_. This slow exploration of Helena’s alabaster skin, finding dips and valleys of heated skin and pulsing muscle with her tongue and lips, hearing Helena’s shallow breathing, the quick hitches in her throat, the soft keens that guided Myka to all those as yet undiscovered places that Helena needed her. 

It was the strangest kind of _homecoming_ that Myka had ever experienced, as her entire body slotted and fit against Helena’s, hips tucked together, Helena’s left hand gripped in her right so tightly that Myka could feel Helena’s nails digging into her tendons, her lips settled against the hollow below Helena’s ear drawing out a string of moans so filthy that Myka felt herself blushing at simply _hearing_ them. The surging need to rush once again flooded Myka’s synapses, her muscles simply wanting to _give in_ , to press, to push, to move without thought for anything other than Helena’s body beneath her. She let her hips tip forward with the slightest amount of pressure, unwilling to dive too far forward if Helena wasn’t there yet. 

She felt a shift underneath her, felt Helena’s chin drag against her jaw as breath flooded her ear hot and hungry, Helena’s voice the perfect embodiment of need, of desire, “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined this in my head?” 

Myka felt her muscles twitch involuntarily at the words, her impulse to _move_ growing with each utterance, “I do…because I have too…over and over.”

Helena’s back arched, impatient, _begging_ without saying a word, because _knowing_ that Myka had imagined this too, it was enough to drive her into realms of utterly distracted desire. 

In one strangled moment of wanting everything all at once, Myka didn’t know what to do _next_ , how to satisfy Helena’s urgent demands. She didn’t know what made her ask, because _normally she didn’t do this_ , talk, let the thoughts in her head manifest into actual words, but there was something about Helena, about the safety of their _shared_ impatience, that made her no longer care about inhibition or embarrassment. Her tongue wrapped around words that she desperately wanted an answer to, “When you imagined it… _what did I do_?” Silence descended around them, Helena’s breathing labored and heavy, Myka could feel her chest moving with the effort beneath her. Myka squeezed their entwined hands, whispering into Helena’s ear, “Tell me what you imagined…”

Helena couldn’t find the _words_ , she wanted to, _tried_ to, but nothing would come, because never in her _wildest dreams_ had she envisioned Myka being so bold, so open. She had never imagined the low timbre that Myka’s voice would get, the way it would hit her right in her gut, heat spreading through her like a wildfire that would never be quenched. She did the only thing she could think to do, untangling their fingers and shifting their bodies to the right angle so that she could move Myka’s hand for her, letting it slide along the side of her ribs, the curve of her hips, before leaving it perched against the top of her thigh. She felt Myka’s fingers clench around her muscles, _knowing_ , knowing without Helena speaking, and it was only that movement, that simple flex of fingertips against muscle that helped Helena find _something_ to say, though _again, never_ in her wildest dreams did she imagine actually _saying_ this to Myka. Her voice quavered with the effort of the revelation, “I scream, Myka…”

Myka’s breath caught in her throat, because, _God_ …that was just _not_ what she was expecting. She smirked against Helena’s ear, impelled to boldness, “Is that a warning or another piece of your imagination?”

A low chuckle rumbled out of Helena’s throat, “ _Both…_ ”

Myka let her fingers curve down Helena’s thigh, “Let’s see what I can do about that…”

**

_Jesus…the neighbors_. It was a fleeting thought, a meaningless _nothing_ racing through Myka’s mind, because in the end _she didn’t care_. She did not have one care in the world for what anyone else heard, what anyone else thought. All she cared about, all she could process was the fact that she was certain that for the rest of her life, there would always be, right there in the back of her mind, at every waking moment, the faint echo of Helena’s voice shattered and breaking apart around the faintest syllables of her name. Myka wasn’t sure anything else existed in the world after that. Her name on Helena’s lips…her name screamed in the perfect combination of ecstasy and release…Myka wondered if this was how religion, how transcendence felt for other people…and if it was, well then, she finally got why they gave themselves over to it, mind, body, and soul.

**

_It was never like this with Giselle…_

Helena willed the thought to not enter her consciousness, but it refused to be contained, ricocheting to the forefront of her thoughts with a ferocity that almost knocked her out of focus. She needed, _desperately_ , for that to not happen, not when she was in a place that required nothing short of ardent _focus_. Inwardly, she chastised herself because the time for thoughts about your ex was certainly _not_ when you were perched between the thighs of the woman you hoped would _never_ be an _ex._

_Focus…_  
Focus on Myka…  
She’s so close… 

Helena closed her eyes, stilled her movements for one fleeting second, just enough to regain her balance, her _focus_ , letting her emotions, her thoughts, regroup and re-center upon the present. Unlike her, Myka was overwhelmingly quiet, Helena having to take her cues from subtle shifts and changes, and she relished in each and every one of them, each tiny revelation that Myka’s control was slowly spinning out of her grasp. She could feel the slight twitch and tremble of Myka’s thighs against her ears, the quiet, desperate gasps that sounded just as heavenly to her ears as she was sure her screams had sounded to Myka’s, the telltale sign of Myka’s hand wrapped, white knuckled against the headboard, while the knuckles of her other hand were caught fiercely between clenched teeth. 

_It really never felt like this with Giselle…_

There could be no denying that what they’d had was…intense…their movements always coming out at a fever pitch, breakneck pace, as though they _couldn’t contain it_ anymore. Yet now, here, with Myka...the way that Helena felt as though she was veritably _drowning_ in every sensation, she realized with stark clarity that what she had once mistaken for passion had been nothing but empty rhythm; nothing but rote motions that came out in a rush but in the end never _felt_ like anything. She never paid attention to the way Giselle breathed, the way her skin felt underneath her fingertips. They never let things linger, never drew things out to a torturous pace just because they simply never wanted to _stop_. It was always about the end point, it was never about the _middle_ , about the subtle moments. The slight curl and tug of a finger wrapped in strands of hair. The clenching of hands pressed together. The tell-tale twitch of sensitive muscles at the mercy of nothing but the trace of a fingernail. The broken cries or the silent gasps. Mouths roving sweat soaked skin, seeing just how far they could _push_ , before they had to let go. No, it had never been like that. Even in the beginning. 

With Myka though…even right in the moment of having Myka so close to the edge, even as she was pressed against Myka in the most intimate of ways…Helena still wanted nothing more than to drink in the subtlety, the little _Myka_ things that she knew would be imprinted on her brain until she ceased to think. The hard press of Myka’s heel into her back when something felt _right_. The crinkle that rose between her brows when she was fighting _so hard_ to not scream. The sound of her fingernails digging into the headboard. There was no doubt that the _end_ was perfection, satisfying to the point that Helena felt damn near _proud_ of how Myka had squirmed, but it was the inbetween, the _getting there_ , that she knew had wound its way indelibly around her heart and that once it was there it was never, _ever_ going to let go.

**

Helena slid as gracefully as possible back towards the head of the bed, collapsing onto the pillows, fingers tracing down Myka’s sternum, utterly incapable of restraining her smile. Myka gave her an exhausted, exuberant grin. Helena felt her arm rise and fall with Myka’s still heavy breathing, as Myka brought her forearm up and draped it over her eyes with a chuckling sigh, “That was…”

“Incredible,” Helena whispered, placing a light kiss to Myka’s shoulder.

Myka turned her head, peeking out from underneath her arm, “I was going to say inevitable, but I think yours is better.” Over Helena’s shoulder, Myka caught sight of where her jeans were hanging precariously off of Helena’s dresser, clearly flung out of sight with zero thought as to where they might land. Another, louder, chuckle shook her chest.

Helena looked at her quizzically, fingers never ceasing their path up and down the valley of her sternum, “Something amusing?”

Myka dragged her hand over her eyes with a sigh, her lips pulling into a smirk, “Just thinking about something Jane said…”

“Do I even want to know why _Jane_ is on your mind at the moment?”

Myka pointed to her pants, “She told me once that she was shocked that my clothes hadn’t been scorched off my body around you…I’m beginning to think she was right.”

A dangerous smirk pulled at the corners of Helena’s mouth as she propped herself up on an elbow, leaning over Myka, her blood already roiling again with desire which felt like it had tripled since the night had started. She mouthed a string of delicate kisses behind Myka’s ear, “She was absolutely right.” Helena let her hand drift from Myka’s sternum to lay flat and forceful against Myka’s lower abdomen, “If you could have read my mind the first time I saw you… _every time I see you_ …”

A shuddering sigh escaped Myka’s throat, her body already worked up again, still _wanting_. Idly, she wondered if _now_ she would ever _stop_ wanting. She let her fingers dance down Helena’s back, “Thoughts of the _scorching_ variety?”

“Oh darling…it’s a bloody _wildfire_ in my mind when it comes to you…”

“I’m guessing…” Myka’s breath hitched as Helena’s fingers moved.

“What’s that, _wicked one_?”

“I’m guessing we haven’t reached _slow_ yet…”

Helena chuckled, but even she didn’t recognize the timbre of her own voice, lousy and thick with want as she twisted her fingers, “Oh we aren’t even _close_ …”

**

They did reach slow… _eventually_. Once they were both too tired to properly move, but not tired enough, not even remotely close to sated enough to stop. Slow came in the idle painting of fingertips on skin, their paths unknown, but refusing to quit traveling. It came in unhurried kisses that sometimes were more breath than anything else. It came in ankles and heels trailing up calves just to _feel_ how the muscles moved and responded. Slow came in shared movements, of legs tangling together, of the barest twitch of hip against hip. Slow came…and Myka and Helena both marveled at the realization that _slow_ somehow felt infinitely _more_ than scorching speed.

**

Slow turned to still. They laid, legs still entwined, facing each other, neither willing to wholly admit that they were tired, that their muscles felt leaden, that morning would be coming far too soon. Now that they were here, stopping seemed unfathomable.

With the stillness, Helena’s thoughts began to run away from her on a freight train heading straight towards _worry_. She drew in a heavy breath, wishing for nothing more than that she could _keep silent_ , but she knew…she had to say it. She draped an arm over Myka’s hip, “We need to talk about this…”

Despite her exhaustion, Myka convinced her body to _move_ , fast enough to swallow the rest of whatever words were going to finish Helena’s sentence. _Not now. Not yet._ The words beat relentlessly against Myka’s temple. _We just got here, don’t ruin it._

With an effort she didn’t know she possessed, Helena forced her eyes open after they had slammed shut at the intensity of Myka’s kiss, “Myka…”

Myka sighed roughly, raising a hand up to push Helena’s hair, which was falling along her cheek, back behind her ear, “I know…I know we do…just _not tonight_. Can’t we just have tonight to not think, to not _breathe_ , to just…be together?”

The tightness that had been building in Helena’s chest uncoiled slightly. Myka was right. It was late and they were _here_ …thinking, _breathing_ could come later. For now, they could enjoy the time they had. Her mouth curled in a bright smile, pushing against Myka’s hip, encouraging her to fall onto her back, “Of course, darling. No thinking…no breathing…”

Myka chuckled, “Not finished yet, huh?”

“ _Never…_ ”

**

Their movements were almost lazy in their slowness, but neither wanted to stop, not when there was uncertainty and _talking_ to be faced in the morning. As Helena willed her mind into a thoughtless focus upon Myka, she wondered if here in this space, this space of knees tucked against thighs, of lips and breath pulsating against skin, this space of Myka’s hips against hers, if she could find a kind of purgatory. A space somewhere in between certainties where she could float, drown, and just possibly find her way home.

**

_That goddamn nail polish…_

Myka’s eyes were entranced with the way that the black which adorned Helena’s nails contrasted sharp and clear with her skin. Memories of that dream, that fantasy rebounded inside her brain, close to short-circuiting now that it was all playing out in reality. 

As if reading her thoughts, where her mind was focused, Helena dragged her index finger down Myka’s lips, watching rapt, as Myka’s teeth flashed in a quick nip of her skin, quickly followed by a delicate kiss to the pad of her finger. Helena went to move her hand, to let it resume the paths it had been tracing along Myka’s body, but Myka reached out, her fingers making a quick cuff around her wrist and drawing her fingers back up to her lips. 

With eyes shuttered close, Myka left mere whispers of kisses along each of Helena’s fingers, feeling the tell-tale slip and smoothness of the nail polish under her lips.

“You’re thinking about something…” Helena whispered out, enraptured by Myka’s attentiveness, her focus on her fingers.

A teasing, almost embarrassed half-smile quirked at the corners of Myka’s lips as she nipped once again at Helena’s finger, “It’s your nail polish…”

Helena raised an eyebrow in question, “My nail polish?”

Myka sighed roughly, “Do you remember the morning we ran into each other at J&R’s?”

“Of course…” Confusion was laced through Helena’s words.

Myka’s eyes rolled with self-deprecation, “I can’t believe I’m telling you this…I…I had had a rather…vivid…dream about you that morning. Don’t ask me why, but your nail polish, it just kind of…stuck in my mind. It was painfully distracting…”

“Myka Bering…admitting to fantasizing about me…whatever will I do with you in your adorably embarrassed state?”

“Preferably, you’ll stop talking about it, or it’s really going to kill the mood,” Myka teased, despite the tinge in her cheeks.

“Oh, but it’s so enjoyable…seeing you squirm like this…knowing now what you must have been thinking about that morning…”

“ _Helena…_ ”

A throaty chuckle fled Helena’s throat, “I’ll keep my thoughts to myself, but know,” Helena leaned down, her mouth hot against Myka’s ear, her fingers scratching against Myka’s ribs, “I’ve dreamt about you too…”

“ _God…_ ”

“I’m fairly certain that you sounded _exactly_ like that every time I did…”

Myka’s eyes rolled with a pure shot of pleasure… _hearing_ …hearing Helena once again admit that she had occupied her thoughts too…Myka hadn’t thought her want could stoke up any hotter…and yet…the flames just kept climbing higher.

**

On the heels of Myka’s admission, Helena’s fingertips seemed to move with clearer intention, mapping, exploring, discovering Myka’s body with renewed intensity. With every pass of Helena’s fingertips along the valleys of her ribs, with every brush of lips over heightened nerves, with every electric thrill of Helena’s tongue dancing over her still quivering muscles, Myka realized that this, _them_ , the back and forth that they’d been doing, fighting against, it hadn’t been about _this moment_. It hadn’t been about just a few dizzying hours of sex. All of it, even these exact moments, had been a kind of foreplay, but for something beyond the simply physical. It had all been a build up to their _passion_ , their _connection_ finally breaking through, washing over and across them until they were drowning in it. That’s what she had been waiting for and she hadn’t even realized it; for a passion that made her chest ache with the realization that in Helena it had found an answering call that said, _yes, yes, I want you too._

**

Exhaustion had to win out at some point. It was as inevitable as the rest of the night had been. Myka felt like she had to mentally convince each of her nerves to fire at the right speed and in the right direction to actually get herself out of bed to find her phone so she could set an alarm. Her goddamn alarm which was going to ring way too soon and force her to leave this bed that she now was certain she never wanted to escape.

“What time do you have to be up?” Helena’s question was queried from where she was ensconced amidst the sheets, head propped up on her hand, her hair still, somehow, cascading perfectly across her pale shoulders.

Looking at Helena like that, the way the moonlight was barely trickling in through the windows, dousing her in an ethereal glow, Myka’s mouth went dry, her body somehow still _awake_. She blinked slowly, once again willing her neurons to fire properly, to form words that actually answered Helena’s question, “You really don’t want to know…” She tossed her phone onto the nightstand and slid back into bed next to Helena, the sheets already slightly cooled from her brief absence. She leaned forward and left a soft kiss to the dip below Helena’s bottom lip, “This is criminal, by the way.”

Helena arched a delicate eyebrow, her lips already curling in a smirk that somehow said she _knew, knew_ just how devastating she still looked, “What is?”

Myka rolled her eyes, “How gorgeous you look right now… _hours_ later. _Criminal_ and utterly distracting.”

Helena’s eyes followed the path her fingers took as they skated down Myka’s arm, “Distraction isn’t good for the fate of your alarm, darling.”

“Tell me about it.” Myka shifted, settling deeper into the pillows, exhaustion starting to tug at her senses, “You’re off tomorrow, right?”

“Indeed,” Helena grimaced at the good fortune that was hers, but most certainly not Myka’s.

“Ugh… _lucky_.”

Helena, still propped up on her elbow, looked down at Myka, reaching out and tracing the line of her curls along her forehead, “I’m sorry…”

Myka turned her head, catching Helena’s palm in a kiss, “I’m not. Alarms be damned…I don’t care…”

“I’ll be sure to ask you if that’s still the case tomorrow night when you’re dead on your feet.”

Myka sighed, her skin pleasantly warmed by Helena’s proximity, by her roaming hands. She fought back a yawn, “Sleep…sleep is probably advisable.”

Helena chuckled softly, “Probably.” Helena loosened her muscles, dropping carefully down onto her own pillows, to lay even with Myka. She leaned forward and whispered, “I would hope I at least still get a good night kiss…I know you’re _tired_.”

“I’m sure I could be persuaded…”

Helena could feel Myka’s smile beneath her own as their lips met for what felt like the thousandth time that night. Yet there was something about _this_ , about saying _good night_ , in the same bed, on the same page, after a night spent in such exhausting bliss that made Helena’s stomach trip over itself with pleasant _giddiness_. They’d fought so hard against this, tried so hard to avoid it, but Myka had been right…all of this…them…it had been nothing but utterly inevitable.

They lingered together for a few more minutes before Myka smiled softly, “Ok…I _have_ to sleep. I don’t _want_ to, but I definitely need to.” With a regretful sigh, she turned over, reveling in the simple ease with which Helena followed her, curling around her body, Helena’s arm casually draped against her stomach. She adjusted her arm so that her hand could cover Helena’s, their fingers barely entwined, just the light assurance that they were _there_.

Helena left a small kiss to the base of Myka’s neck and in that one tiny movement she felt words bubbling inside her throat, once again _inevitable_ , even if she knew that now wasn’t the time, that she should keep them to herself, not let them out, _not yet_. She attempted to swallow them down, but they fought back all the harder. Her fingers flexed against Myka’s stomach and she knew they were going to spill out, she was powerless to stop them. Into the gentle quiet of her room, they escaped her on a hesitant whisper, “I am coming dangerously close to falling for you, Myka…completely and utterly.”

Myka didn’t say anything at first and Helena worried that at best she’d just said what she had been _wanting_ to say for weeks to an already sleeping Myka or at worst she had ruined everything that had just happened, but then the sheets were jostling and Myka was once again turning back towards her. There was a wondering seriousness in Myka’s eyes, but Helena could feel something _else_ , possibly excitement or relief in the twitch of Myka’s fingers against her back, “You’re close to it? What would take for you to jump off of that cliff?”

There were hundreds of things that Helena could say in response to that, but she said the only one that she felt was truly _real_ , “If I knew that you were right there with me…standing next to me on that cliff.”

The seriousness in Myka’s eyes softened, relaxed under Helena’s uncertainty, “Oh I am. I am standing right next to you on that cliff, Helena.”

“So what happens if we jump?”

“I have no idea…but maybe…as long as we know we’re jumping together…”

“After tonight…after _everything_ …Myka, I don’t think there’s any way I can keep from jumping.”

Another, harder, brighter, surge of heat ran through Myka’s blood. _She’s telling me she loves me…_ Myka swallowed thickly, overwhelmingly thankful that she wasn’t _the only one_. She, yet again, pushed forward, pulsing a heady kiss against Helena’s lips which were just as willing and ready to move with her. Myka forced herself to pull back before it went too far, “You aren’t jumping alone, ok?”

A relieved sigh washed through Helena’s lungs. _Thank God, she feels it too…_ She gave a small nod of her head, words slipping along her tongue like water escaping between her fingers, “That’s…good…that’s so unbelievably good to know, darling.”

Myka’s adorably crooked smile overwhelmed her muscles. She left one more kiss against the corner of Helena’s mouth. There was nothing more to do tonight. Nothing more to say. They’d absolutely just said everything they possibly needed to for _tonight_ , for a night of no breathing, no thinking. That would come tomorrow, Myka told herself. She would breathe in the morning. For now…she just wanted to sleep, sleep with nothing but thoughts of cliffs and jumping and Helena’s hands to occupy her dreams.

**

“ _Oh my God_ …I underestimated the earliness…” Myka pried her arm out from underneath where Helena was draped across her, flinging it out to the nightstand in a vain hope to just make her alarm _stop ringing_.

Helena groaned next to her, burrowing further into the sheets and pillows, trying desperately to keep Myka held as tightly to her as possible, “Be irresponsible. Ignore it. Steve can handle things.”

“A good point…yet…”

“You’re going to be _responsible_ …” Helena buried her face despairingly into the pillows, attempting to keep any amount of sunlight from creeping into her eyes.

Myka rolled to press a string of kisses to Helena’s shoulder blades, causing Helena to mumble, “You keep doing that and I will _make_ you be ridiculously _irresponsible_.”

“Ugh… _fine_ …I am getting up.” Myka unfurled herself from the sheets gracelessly, feeling all of her muscles resist the effort, each of them slightly sore and tight. A smile she would have been embarrassed to let anyone see graced her lips, each and every ache had been worth it. She hung her head, the desire for sleep clinging to the haze in her mind, “ _Fuck_ …it is going to be a long day.” She forced herself up, extracting her clothes from their various corners, mindlessly tugging them on. She heard movement behind her, turning in time to see Helena shuffling into a scrap of fabric that could hardly call itself a proper bathrobe. A heated flush raced into Myka’s chest, but she forced it and all the thoughts it elicited away. _She did not have time for this…distraction._ She gave Helena a delicate smile, “ _You_ don’t need to get up.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “If you think I’m going to let you just walk of shame yourself out of here without a proper walk to the door and a kiss goodbye, you are sorely mistaken, Myka Bering.”

Myka smirked, “There is _nothing_ about my ride home that will be shameful. The damn thing should be called a ride of _pride_.”

“For being exhausted…you’re rather saucy this morning.”

Myka shrugged, forcing her feet down the stairs, “Side effect of sleep deprivation.” She looked over her shoulder where Helena was stifling a yawn, “You _seriously_ didn’t need to get up.”

Helena fluttered dismissive hands at her, “Believe me, I will be crawling back into bed the second that door closes behind you, and possibly refusing to see the light of day for another eight hours.”

“ _Lucky_.” Myka plucked her flannel from the back of the couch, tugging it back on with minimal aid from Helena’s searching fingers.

In a blatant reenactment of mere hours before, Helena tugged Myka into her by the opening of her shirt. She placed a delicate kiss to Myka’s smirk, “Can I see you tonight?”

A bubble of pleasant warmth popped in Myka’s chest and flooded into her stomach. _This was happening._ No hesitant running away from what had happened the night before, no uncertainty about what it meant. She knew they needed to talk, and they would, but the smile on Helena’s face gave her a modicum of hope that it wasn’t a talk she needed to dread. She toyed with the sash of Helena’s robe, “Of course.”

“Since I _do_ have the day off I could make dinner…”

Myka’s thoughts catapulted to the logistics of that request, an involuntary grimace falling across her face, causing Helena to immediately start backpedaling. Her fingers loosened their grip around Myka’s shirt, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment, “Oh God…was that too much? Too soon?”

Myka gripped around Helena’s retreating hands, holding her still, “No! No. _No_. Definitely not. It’s just…Trailer. He’s fine if I leave him on occasion, but he gets a little cranky when I’m not home much.”

Helena knew her disappointment would be written all across her face, she wasn’t awake enough to control her emotions. It was foolish to think that they could dive in so quickly. She sighed, trying to hide her embarrassment, “Of course, we can always do it later.”

“No, I don’t want to do it later. I _want_ to see you tonight.” Myka could practically _feel_ Helena’s nerves radiating off of her. A thought trickled into Myka’s mind, but she wondered if _that_ would end up being too much, too soon. She decided to throw caution to the wind, they were _jumping off the cliff_ after all, “You could come to my place. Believe it or not, my kitchen _does_ actually contain pots and pans. There’s even food in the fridge. So…while I wouldn’t suggest trying to transport dinner by bike, my kitchen is open.”

_Too much, too fast_. Those four words careened through Helena’s mind dangerously, but she discovered that where she usually felt nervous, _hesitant_ for those first few steps after any kind of intimacy, with Myka she felt nothing but _contentment_ , a strong, sturdy desire to just be _there, together_ , in whatever way was easiest. She tugged on Myka’s shirt again, “I’m willing to take you up on that offer…though it does depend on how you feel about letting me be in your house alone.”

“Well, after everything Wolly has told me, I’m, of course, petrified that you’ll burn the place down.”

“Oh, you should be. I am _very_ dangerous.

Myka smirked, “I _welcome_ the danger, _your_ danger, so I’ll risk it.”

“What time are you off tonight?”

Myka did the mental math, quickly calculating the schedule for the day, “I _should_ be home by eight-thirty…nine at the latest…I know it’s kind of late.”

“No later than I usually get home most nights. It’s not a big deal.”

“You can either come by the stables later and get my keys, or you can just let yourself in. There’s a spare key under the left flower pot on the porch.”

“Entrusting me with all of your secrets, huh?”

“ _Most_ …not all… _yet_.”

Helena couldn’t contain her smile, the blinding happiness that was cascading through her body was practically causing her to vibrate. She pulled Myka down by her shirt for one more kiss, “Have a good day at work, I’ll see you tonight.”

Myka kept her eyes closed for a few extra seconds, trying to get the moment to last a bit longer before having to admit defeat to reality. She sighed, unable to resist the urge to give Helena one last kiss, “I’ll see you tonight. _Don’t_ burn my kitchen down.”

“I’ll try my best. Now _go_ , get to work so I can go back to bed,” Helena teased.

Myka groaned, “I hate you…”

“Do you really, wicked one?”

Myka sighed in mock defeat, “Not even a little bit.”

**

Myka’s mind was a complete scramble of giddy exhaustion as she biked back to her house. She had had no idea when she invited Helena in last night that the morning would bring _this_. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she had given up the majority of her hope. Sure, she had imagined that it would happen at some point, that they would fall into bed because _inevitable_ , but deep down, she didn’t think they could get further than that after everything that had happened, everything that the summer implied. Yet…Helena’s words about that goddamn cliff kept circling around in her brain. It felt like being told that someone loves you, Myka was certain of it. Certain that it was what Helena had meant, certain that she had meant it whole-heartedly when she’d said it back. She loved her. There was no escaping it. There was no turning back now. If Myka was being honest, she’d already jumped off the cliff, but there was no need to rush. They _did_ have time, scant though it seemed. They had _months_. She could deal with the future later, for now, she wanted to focus on last night, on tonight, on dinner, on hope.

**

“Dude, Boss…you’re _glowing_. You look exhausted, but you’re like seriously fucking _glowing_ ,” Claudia said as she peeked her head into Myka’s office at the start of her shift. She plopped down in one of Myka’s chairs, feet propped up on Myka’s desk, “What’s with the glowing?”

Myka bit down on the corner of her lip, trying ardently to focus on her computer, adamantly refusing to give Claudia’s question any kind of response.

“Boss? _Explain_.”

“Don’t you have tours to prep for?” Myka asked as casually as she could.

“Holy shit! _Bering and Wells!_ It happened, didn’t it? Oh my God…you’re _blushing_ , it so totally did. Steve owes me fifty bucks. Steve! You owe me money!”

“ _Why_ do I owe you money?” Steve asked from the doorway, annoyance dripping off of him at the boisterousness of Claudia’s beckoning.

Claudia pointed a vigorous finger at Myka’s face, “Look at those blushing cheeks! You owe me fifty bucks.”

“ _Dammit_. She’s glowing. You’re glowing,” he tossed out at Myka.

“I am just sitting here focused on my work. I’m not glowing. I’m not _anything_.” Myka tried to keep her words steady, but she couldn’t help the smile forcing its way onto her face.

“Oh man, it _did_ happen, didn’t it?” Steve asked with a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Myka sighed, she might as well just get it out there, “ _Yes_. And that’s all I’m saying. You both have work to do. I have work to do.”

Steve turned to leave with a satisfied smile, “Right, _work_. You’re absolutely focused on work.” He shot Myka a wink over his shoulder as he walked out the door, “Congrats, partner.”

Claudia waited until Steve had left before planting her feet on the ground and leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, “ _Spill_.”

“There’s nothing to spill, Claude. _I’m glowing_ , doesn’t that say enough?”

“Well, yeah, but still…come on, Myka. A week ago you were lamenting that all hope was lost, that it was never going to happen. So…is H.G. now fully aboard the good ship Bering and Wells?”

“I…I think so. We still have to talk about it.”

“But you’re happy? You’re not like on the brink of freak out or anything?”

Myka sighed contentedly, memories of the night before washing over her thoughts, “Yeah, Claude…I’m happy, like deliriously happy.”

“Then that’s all I need to hear. If she hurts you…I will kick her ass, but as long as you’re happy, I’m good.”

“I’m happy, trust me.”

“Excellent.” Claudia bounded onto her feet, “Now, I apparently have work to do. Happy glowing, boss. Try to focus a little bit.”

**

Myka _tried_ to focus, but it was fruitless. She figured she might as well have stayed in bed this morning for all the work she was getting done, but then she figured maybe the small modicum of distance was good for them both. It gave them both a chance to _breathe_ before they talked, which she knew they would need to do…tonight. She had meant it when she told Claudia she was happy, but she also didn’t want to plow forward, consequences be damned. She needed to know where Helena was at. She knew where she was, but she so desperately didn’t want to be there alone, just like Helena didn’t want to be standing on that cliff alone. 

Her distraction laced thoughts were tugged further away by one of her interns turning up the radio in the stables, the speakers now full blown _blaring_ one of the mixes that usually played throughout the day. Typically, Myka could drown it out, most of it was white noise to her anyway, music she didn’t have one clue about. Yet…as the rhythmic strains of violin music reverberated around her walls, she couldn’t help but let the lyrics tug her away. She had admittedly grown to love this song over the last few summers, and it was possible that she loved it more so now for the thoughts it was conjuring in her mind.

_“Gotta take a chance running after somebody…”_

Myka thought about the look on Helena’s face when she had pulled Myka towards her last night, how happy she had looked, despite the hint of uncertainty that was there. _Take a chance_ …God…this whole thing was one hell of a chance to take.

_“Got her taste on my lips…still feel her on my fingertips…”_

“Jesus…” Myka dragged her hands down her face, “yeah that’s not distracting at all. No, not at all.”

She forced herself to try and refocus, but the lyrics kept pounding, demanding her attention.

_“Because I’ve never known love like this…”_

Love. Cliffs. Jumping. Together. Myka knew beyond a shadow of any doubt that she was sunk, permanently, uncontrollably. 

**

Sometime around seven, Myka’s phone pinged loudly around her office catching her by surprise enough to cause her to jump. She’d _finally_ found some semblance of focus, though it’d taken awhile, and she hadn’t realized how quiet the stables had gotten. She slid open the message to find a picture of Helena, her face adorably resting against Trailer’s. 

_He’s insuring the safety of your house, making sure that I don’t burn anything down._

Myka could not put words to any ounce of what she was feeling. Knowing that Helena was in her house, making them dinner, cuddling with Trailer; it screamed of _normalcy_ , of _happiness._

_He’s very reliable that way. However, don’t let him get too close or we won’t have any dinner for ourselves. He’ll eat it all himself._

_I’ll bear that in mind._

There was a brief pause before another message arrived from Helena. 

_He misses you…desperately. He’s been quite adamant about it._

There was no better description for the sensation that Myka experienced reading that except for butterflies. Her stomach twisted and swooped recklessly. She chuckled self-deprecatingly, “Butterflies. I’m thirty years old and getting butterflies. Yeah, that’s not pathetic at all.”

_I miss him too…it’s wreaked havoc on my focus today…missing him._

_Well…come home soon, then. He wants to see you…_

_I’ll be there soon. I promise._

_We’ll be here…waiting…not burning anything down._

Myka sighed, setting her phone to the side lightly. _Come home soon…home…_ the word reverberated around Myka’s mind. Helena was starting to feel dangerously like home. She turned her attention back to her work, finding her focus remarkably returned at the prospect of finishing earlier so that she could leave, so she could get _home_. Her eyes strayed once again to her phone, waking it up to look at the picture one more time, the lyrics from earlier once again dancing around her brain…

_“Because I’ve never known love like this…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the end was Tyler Ward ft. Lindsey Sterling "Some Kind of Beautiful" (which if you haven't heard it...it SCREAMS B&W)
> 
> As always...thank you all for sticking around :) Y'all mean the world...


	9. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some conversations can't be delayed no matter how hard you try.
> 
> Myka and Helena figure out what exactly they should do now that they've stopped running away from each other despite the fact that October still lingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yowza--y'all I am crazy sorry that this has taken so long. Life has been insane--way too insane. Thanks for sticking out the wait and hopefully now that things have calmed down you won't have to wonder if the next chapter is ever going to show up.
> 
> Always, thanks to @MuddyPuppy for the beta in the midst of her own life craziness :)

_Shit…what if this goes completely wrong…_

Myka had been fine. _More than fine_. She had been giddy even, giddy to leave work and get home and see where the night took them. She had wanted nothing more than to finish all of the paperwork that she usually enjoyed but today found particularly mind-numbing, so she could ride home as fast as possible. She had seen that text from Helena, that text claiming that _Trailer_ missed her and she had wanted to just shut her computer down then and there and go home because how the hell was she supposed to keep working when she knew Helena was in her house _waiting_ for _her_? 

So…she had been fine. Until…

_What if it’s not enough time…_

Until she had locked up the stable doors with fingers just this side of shaky with exuberant nerves and started her ride home, only to be hit like a goddamn freight train with the weight of Helena’s words from the night before.

_We need to talk about this._

Somehow, despite the fact that they had been lying in bed, naked and struggling for breath, Helena had needed to say it. Myka had seen the look that had crept into her eyes right before, the uncertainty, the fear that had raced behind them and she had _known_ , known exactly what Helena was going to say before the words had even begun to formulate on her tongue. Myka had known because she knew too, knew the truth of those words, regardless of the fact that she had pushed them away. Last night she hadn’t wanted to hear them, contemplate them, even admit that they existed, but now…

_What if it’s too much…_

Now that she was on her way home to a house that had Helena in it, with a night that lay completely open before them, she knew that they would get there, that there would be no pushing those words away or swallowing them with hungry lips. She knew Helena wouldn’t let her and she knew she wouldn’t try, because everyday that they let this go without consequences would be a day that led to one, or both of them, getting unbelievably hurt. So, yes, she was willing to admit that they had to talk. However, in the face of that reality, her nerves which had been non-existent last night, chased away as though they were meaningless nothings by Helena’s determined fingers, came careening back to her with the force of a hurricane. A hurricane she was fairly certain she would willingly drown in if it let her.

_What if she only wants a few months…_

Every worry she had ever had about them, every question, every fear, every fucking disastrous consequence that she had tried so hard to forget was back full force at the front of her mind as she wound her way up the hill and home. She tried to fight them back, but the butterflies that had once been fluttering in her stomach had turned to a roiling, churning boil of panic, and she found she had no way to stop them. Once they started swirling, she was trapped, spinning around and around and around in a haze of what ifs and blind terror.

_What if we have no idea what we’re doing…_

_What if…what if this is just a rebound…_

_Six months…they’ve been broken up for six months after four years…_

Rebound. Rebound. Rebound. The word seemed to vibrate from each turning of her wheels against the road. She didn’t want to be a rebound. She had precisely _zero_ interest in being a rebound. Deep down, she knew that if that was what was going on with them, it would feel one hundred percent worse than if what they felt was real but knew it had an expiration date in October. Thoughts of Abigail, of being _used_ sprang back into her mind, a hot bubble of bitterness following closely behind. Helena _knew_ about Abigail, had expressed her own shock and rage at what had happened and so Myka wanted to _trust_ that Helena wouldn’t do that to her. Yet…would Helena even _know_ that she was doing it? Would she even recognize that she was rebounding until it was too late? What if this felt real because of everything they had talked about--contentedness, loneliness, convenience? What if what they were doing was simply a convenient contentedness until it was time to leave? Until that _wandering_ crept back in…

_Her wandering heart…_

_What if even though it has seemed to have found mine, it just wanders away again?_

_When it gets bored._

_When it gets uncertain._

_When October rolls around._

Of all the thoughts she was trying to avoid, Myka wished with every ounce of her being that that one would just _go away_. There was nothing they could do about it. They couldn’t stop the world from turning. They couldn’t stop the pages from flying off of the calendar. They had no time. She’d _known_ that from the beginning and yet she hadn’t stopped herself from falling. She’d known that October would come, that Helena would leave, and while she had naively told herself that they would deal with it when it came, now facing the reality that they might _try_ this, she had no idea how they could deal with it. She didn’t want long distance. She didn’t want a relationship pieced together with phone lines and text messages and convenient schedules and flights in and out. She wanted a _life_. Yet, what choice did they have now?

_What if there’s no choice to make though?_

_What if now we have nothing left?_

_What if it really was just about sex?_

_What if I walk in that door and everything we had is gone?_

_Will I still think last night was worth it?_

Yes.  
Yes.  
Hopefully.

Myka had told Helena that first night, after that first kiss, after that first dance with inevitability that she wouldn’t regret it, wouldn’t regret them. She didn’t regret last night. She didn’t regret pushing. She didn’t regret diving in. She just hoped Helena didn’t either. More than anything, she hoped that in four months they didn’t look back and realize that last night was the beginning of the end. 

_She’s in there…in my house…making us dinner…_

_God…I love her…fuck_

_And now I’m standing outside my own door like a goddamn idiot…_

“Shit…” Myka rubbed slow circles against her temples. She could hear Trailer barking on the other side of the door, and knew that because of him it was most likely abundantly obvious that she was home. “The longer you stand out here…” _She’ll know you’re stalling._ Vividly, Myka imagined Helena in the house, leaning against the kitchen counter, staring at the front door, heart filled with the same terrifying questions as her own. She imagined Helena worrying that she was stalling because she didn’t _feel_ anything after last night, that she regretted it, that she regretted suggesting letting Helena come cook dinner. Of all the things that could complicate things more would be Myka making things worse by simply _refusing to walk in the door._ Myka sucked in a deep breath, hitching her bag further up her shoulder, “Come on, Bering. Get it together.” She closed her eyes and counted to five slowly, letting her breath out evenly. _You do love her. You love her. That has to count for something. One more deep breath._ Never had her door knob felt so foreign, so terrifying in the palm of her hand, but she forced herself to tamp it all down, get all her fears in check. Helena couldn’t see her fear, it would ruin everything before it had even started, and _God_ , Myka just wanted this thing to start.

_And hopefully never end._

**

Just through the simple act of walking into her house, Myka felt like she was returning to some semblance of herself that she recognized. The tangled up mess of emotions and fear that had made its way up the hill from the stables, that had stood stock still on the porch seemed to dissipate, fading out behind her, left on the outside, while the person she was, the person she wanted to be, the person from last night sank back into her the moment she crossed the threshold of her house. Her house that was filled with the mouthwatering scent of garlic, tomatoes, and baking bread. Her house that had dwindled down to one small point of focus, the rooms, the walls, everything disappearing, leaving only Helena, back faced to her, completely entranced in stirring a pot on the stove. Her hair was pulled up into a haphazard bun, a loose white t-shirt hugging her perfectly; she looked completely casual and perfectly comfortable maneuvering around the kitchen, as if this was where she was always meant to be.

Every time she walked into the house, Myka felt something shift within her, an odd sense of peace and contentment that tripped along her neurons with the assurance that she was _home_. This time though, this particular vision of her home, not empty, but filled up with Helena’s presence which was all-encompassing, it was more than home…for one brief moment, Myka hoped, wanting nothing more than to be looking at her future.

The scratch of Trailer’s nails against her knee shook her out of the haze that had surrounded her when she walked in. She tossed her bag to the side of the door and knelt down to scratch behind his ears, tilting his head forward to nestle a kiss to the bridge of his nose, “Hi my sweet boy.”

Trailer nudged his nose under Myka’s palm, licking at her hand quickly before immediately turning tail and returning to the kitchen, sitting directly next to Helena, eyes attentive on the stove. 

Myka rolled her eyes in a mixture of exasperation and affection, for both her demanding dog and the woman currently occupying her kitchen, “You’ve been giving him snacks.”

A soft wave of laughter hit Myka’s ears, laughter that might as well have been a symphony because it left her chest feeling expansive and warm with the sound. Helena turned the barest amount to glance over her shoulder with a smirk, “He is _incessant_. You weren’t going to get any dinner if I didn’t acquiesce to his demands.” She turned back to the stove, wrist never ceasing in its movements, continually stirring, making Myka feel like she was being lulled into a trance by it, until Helena’s voice called her back again, “By the way, you’re out of carrots.”

It was such a small thing to say, a tiny, almost nothing of a thing, and yet, Myka could not find the proper words for what that miniscule, meaningless little sentence did to her previously nerve-wracked body. This casual statement about _vegetables_ brought to her mind with picture perfect clarity, a vision of _what this could look like_. Helena. Her. Trailer. Dinners and grocery lists and pots being stirred on the stove and rushing to get home. _A life_. She forced herself to draw in a deep breath, _too much, too fast_ ; they weren’t there yet. They’d had one night. One, admittedly, mind-blowing night, and while they seemed on the path towards _something_ , Myka willed her heart to remain in check. They hadn’t even talked yet, they needed time, _a lot of time_ , before they started etching visions of forever into stone.

That one little sentence though, that vision of home, Myka couldn’t help but let it impel her towards _movement_. All those nerves, all those questions, all those worries, scattered away like waves retreating back into the lakes, entirely forgotten, _for now_. She knew they would return, most likely with more force than she could handle, but right now, in this very moment she needed to move. She passed a hand over Trailer’s head, whispering, “Opportunist,” before sliding her arms around Helena’s waist, nestling her chin against Helena’s shoulder and placing a soft kiss behind her ear, “You owe me a bag of carrots.”

Helena didn’t turn, barely moved to acknowledge the sentence, but Myka could see her smirk out of the corner of her eye, could feel the way that her stomach muscles were clinching to hold in laughter. Helena remained attentive to her stirring, “One would say an entirely homemade dinner is _ample_ payment for a bag of carrots that was practically empty anyway.”

“That’s true, that’s _very_ true. However…there is one other _small_ thing I would consider ample payment…”

A small puff of laughter, the soft clang of the spoon against the side of the pot, and then Helena was _finally_ turning. Shifting within Myka’s hold and bringing her arms up around Myka’s shoulders with a playfully arched eyebrow, but she didn’t say a thing. Myka watched her take a short breath, the quick dart of her tongue wetting her lips in preparation, such small things that took mere milliseconds, but still left Myka completely off-kilter, practically vibrating with anticipation for this thing that screamed of so much normalcy…a simple welcome home kiss. Helena leaned up on her tiptoes, now woefully shorter than Myka in her bare feet, and pressed a soft kiss to Myka’s lips. It wasn’t heated, it wasn’t pleading or desirous of more, it was simple, a welcome back, an _I’m glad you’re home_ , an _I missed you_ , and that somehow felt like _more_ , so much more than everything that had happened the night before. Still, Helena pulled away breathless, overwhelmed by what seemed to be happening between them, this quick shift into contentedness and simplicity. She laid a palm against Myka’s cheek, taking in the subtle shades of purple beneath her eyes, the exhaustion she seemed to be carrying in her muscles; she smiled softly, “You look tired, darling.”

Myka rolled her eyes but couldn’t help her smile, “Yeah…well…lack of sleep…”

“And whoever could be responsible for that?” Helena winked, turning back to the stove to continue her stirring.

Myka chuckled, hopping up on the counter and pulling slices of cucumber out of the salad bowl, “Oh I don’t know…I mean, it was a pretty uneventful night.”

Helena tapped a forceful hand against Myka’s as it went for the salad bowl again, “If you’re of that opinion, I might keep you from eating _any_ of this dinner.”

“Well that just seems like a horrendous waste of all of my carrots…”

“I will _gladly_ replace all of your groceries.”

Myka smirked, leaning down to kiss Helena’s cheek while sneaking another cucumber, “Trust me, I will buy groceries from here until the end of time if it means I get to eat a dinner that smells as insanely good as this.”

Helena shot her a sidelong glance, attempting to look incredulously annoyed, but knowing the only thing she looked was entirely _enamored_ , “You’re flattering me so I’ll ignore what you just did.”

“Possibly. Is it working?”

“Just eat your cucumbers and tell me how your day was.”

Myka smiled triumphantly, her chest once again expanding with a heat she hadn’t felt in _years_ , her butterflies from earlier re-emerging with twice the force. Feeling a blush rising involuntarily in her cheeks, she forced her attention to Trailer who continued to be entirely uninterested in her, eyes only for Helena. She kicked her shoes off and ran her foot down his back, unable to quite look at Helena when she spoke, “I was accused of _glowing…_ ”

Helena didn’t look at her, but Myka could see the smile that immediately overwhelmed her face. When she spoke though, her voice was even, casually interested, “And whoever would accuse you of such a thing?”

“Claudia. Steve. Fargo. _Todd_.” Helena chortled at Myka’s apparent shock. Myka kicked her foot out and caught Helena’s hip, “ _Hush_ , because it’s embarrassing. The oblivious boys were aware of my glowing. I mean…I might as well have been carrying a sign saying, _‘ask me what I did last night?’_ ”

“I’m not sure _what_ is the appropriate word choice there…”

Myka groaned, “And you say that _I’m_ wicked? That was…filthy.”

“And you walked right into it, therefore I feel _zero_ shame.” Helena glanced Myka’s way with a teasing grin, “You’re glowing again, by the way, I mean, you’re _blushing_ horrendously, which is entirely adorable, but you’re also glowing, so it kind of diminishes the force of your incredulity at Todd and Fargo’s awareness.”

Myka let out a deep breath, rolling her eyes at how obvious she was being, “Ok, I’m changing the subject. _Entirely_. Kelly came by today…”

Helena recognized Myka’s tone immediately, the rush of urgency lying underneath it. She turned the burner down, assured that the sauce wouldn’t burn at a low simmer. She leaned against the counter, her body barely pressed against Myka’s knees as she reached out and linked her fingers with Myka’s, “How’s Tesla?”

“He’s good, he’s more than good actually. He hasn’t been having as much stiffness anymore…”

“But you’re still worried…”

Myka sighed, “It’s stupid.”

“It’s _not_ stupid,” Helena squeezed Myka’s hand tightly. “It is the _furthest_ thing from stupid. Those horses mean _everything_ to you Myka, you are entitled to your worry.”

“I can just tell Kelly thinks I’m crazy…”

“ _Who cares?_ ”

A small puff of laughter raced past Myka’s lips, “I dare you to say that to Kelly.”

“Do not tempt me.” Helena shifted to stand in front of Myka, unlinking their hands so she could place them against the tops of Myka’s thighs, “I will never tell you that you shouldn’t worry, however…if even you are saying that he’s good…”

“Then I need to stop worrying…”

“It might…maybe… _possibly_ …be an advisable thing to consider,” Helena smirked.

Myka leaned forward, reveling in the steady pressure of Helena’s hands against her legs and kissed her, slowly, with the kind of intentionality that said more than words possibly could. She tucked her hands underneath Helena’s jaw, feeling Helena settle firmly between her knees with a sigh. Right at the moment that Myka’s tongue slid along the roof of Helena’s mouth, the oven timer resounded loudly, _obnoxiously_ into the sudden silence, drawing them apart with a start. Myka smirked, “Now who’s blushing?”

“I’m not blushing…I’m _glowing_ ,” Helena teased, grabbing an oven mitt and leaning down to pull a perfectly browned loaf of bread out of the oven. She set it on the stove and returned her attention to the cavalcade of pots she had going, “We’re almost ready, I just have to drop the pasta in.” She gestured with her chin towards an open bottle of wine on the counter, “That should have breathed long enough. Do you want to pour us a couple of glasses and grab some plates?”

Myka hopped down from the counter with a satisfied smirk, though still quietly attuned to the overwhelming sense of _normalcy_ that had invaded her house. She dropped a kiss to the back of Helena’s neck, appreciating the fact that she could with Helena’s hair up, “Gladly.”

**

“Ok…I might never cook again, because I swear to God, everything is going to pale woefully in comparison.”

Helena attempted to fight back a smirk, a practically beaming smile of _accomplishment_ , because while she was confident, _more than confident_ , actually damn near cocky at her skills in the kitchen, she had wanted nothing more than for Myka to enjoy dinner. It was why she had put four hours of effort into a dinner that she could make in her sleep at this point. She peered at Myka over the top of her wine glass, her smile unable to be restrained, “I am very glad you like it.”

“ _Like it?_ Helena…this is ridiculously good. _Thank you_.”

“Well worth the wait after a long day?”

Myka countered with a smirk of her own, “The long day was well worth it to begin with, but _yes_ , more than worth it.”

“I will admit I felt immensely guilty that I was able to get a few more hours of sleep after you left…”

“Again I will say, _well worth it_ , but trust me, I am looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow.”

Helena bit back a small sigh, “It is regrettable that our schedules…our days off are out of sync.”

“Well,” Myka arched her eyebrow with a dangerous, wishful glint in her eye, “maybe we’ll have to do something about that.”

It was another push, another soft push, but there was something in Helena’s tone, something so wanting there about the reality that they had _so little time_ , that made Myka want to rush forward and figure out how they could get as much as they possibly could. Myka knew that it would take some maneuvering, that it might be immensely complicated to figure out how they could coordinate their time, but she knew deep down that she was willing, _more than willing_ , to do whatever it took to get them as much time as they could wring out of these small number of months.

**

There was one small beat after dinner, one that was barely noticeable, a mere scrap of seconds where an unspoken question seemed to hang throughout the atmosphere of Myka’s house. _What do we do next?_ They had planned dinner…they distinctly hadn’t planned what was going to happen _after_ dinner. It was noticeable in the way that Myka slightly paused at the sink after setting their dishes down, it was evident in how Helena wasn’t quite sure if she should move from the table or stay there. That one small second was enough for Myka’s mind to spin with uncertainty, because what if all of her fears had been right? What if they had nothing left?

The soft press of Helena’s hands slipping against her sides, coming up to rest around her shoulders, Helena pressed completely flush against her back was enough to pull Myka away from the temptation of her thoughts. She felt Helena’s breath skate through her curls, a small peck of a kiss left against her shoulder. “Why don’t you let me take care of all of this?” Helena murmured.

Myka half turned her head with an incredulous smile, “You made every ounce of this dinner, right down to homemade pasta, the least I can do is take care of the dishes.”

“That is true, however, I have left your kitchen in a woeful state of chaos, and I’d rather that you let me take care of it so you can go shower.”

Myka smirked, “Is that your not really subtle way of telling me that you think I smell?”

Helena pressed herself closer to Myka, forehead against Myka’s shoulder, drawing in a mocking deep breath, “ _No_ …what I’m saying is that you look utterly exhausted, and I’d rather you went and took a shower to relax a bit. I can deal with a messy kitchen, Myka. It’s kind of what I do.”

“You’re not going to think I’m some horrible…” _Girlfriend_ …Myka’s throat caught around the word that almost slipped out. She hoped that she was able to course-correct without Helena noticing, “person for bailing on the cleaning?”

“You’re not bailing, _I’m_ demanding that you leave it be. There’s a difference.” Helena chose to skate completely by the small hitch that had sliced through Myka’s sentence, a noticeable gap between what Myka evidently _wanted_ to say and the words that actually came out of her mouth. There was no need to question it, they’d get to _that_ discussion eventually.

“Ok,” Myka turned gratefully and left a soft peck to Helena’s lips, “I will admit a shower sounds heavenly, but I promise I will make it up to you. Though…I doubt you would want me to make you dinner…”

“Oh I’m sure we can figure out some sort of equal and opposite form of reciprocation,” Helena winked.

Myka arched an eyebrow, stepping out of Helena’s orbit which she felt drawing her in so tightly that she was tempted to forget everything, the dishes, her shower, her everything, in order to maintain some semblance of composure. She glanced over her shoulder where Helena was still smirking, watching her walk away, “You think you’re so smooth, Nerd.”

“Oh darling…the look on your face right now proves that it isn’t just something I think, it’s something I definitely _know_.”

**

If Helena thought Myka was distracting before, newly home from work, hair entirely frazzled, the soft though still very present scent of hay clinging to the edges of her clothes, then how she looked stepping out of her bedroom in a small pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt that clung a little too perfectly around her hips was downright torturous. However, if Myka was aware of the all out assault she was waging on Helena’s self-control, she didn’t show it. 

Myka grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and settled onto the couch next to Helena, her hip nudging against where Helena had her knees drawn up to her chest, “Now that I feel more like a human being, would you feel up for a movie or something?”

Helena attempted to tamp down her urge to simply shout, _“Yes, please…I’ll take as much time as we can get,”_ and simply tucked Myka’s damp curls behind her ear, “Darling, if you need to sleep…”

“No.” The word leapt off of Myka’s lips before she’d even fully realized she’d _spoken_. She wasn’t ready for the night, for any of this, to end. She nestled her chin against the tops of Helena’s knees, leaving a kiss to each of them, “I’m good, trust me. It doesn’t matter how many hours I’ve worked, I always need a few hours at night, whatever _time of night_ it happens to be, to decompress. If I just went straight to bed, I’m not sure I would feel like I actually _lived_ during the summer.”

Helena nodded knowingly, “I learned that lesson quickly. I would come home, eat, and go straight to bed at first. After a few weeks, I realized I felt like I was sleep-walking and started forcing myself to work in more down time for myself, even if it was a trade-off for less sleep.”

“Smart woman.” Myka sat up and clicked on the TV. She shot Helena a sidelong glance, “I pretty much rely on Netflix for any and all entertainment, there aren’t many options for cable up here.”

Helena shrugged, “I have cable at home and I never use it. Have you watched _Stranger Things_ yet?”

“No! I haven’t had time, but Claudia and Pete keep insisting that I have to. Have you?”

“Not yet.”

Myka pressed a couple of buttons on the remote, easily pulling up her Netflix queue. She scrolled over the _Stranger Things_ icon and grinned at Helena, “Shall we?”

“As long as you realize that watching this will _fully and irretrievably_ pull you into nerd territory…”

Myka shrugged playfully, “Eh, I wasn’t that far from it anyway, might as well make it official.”

**

_How can this be so easy?_

Myka pulled her focus back to the television, where they were starting their second episode, but she couldn’t help but wonder over and over how she had ever been _worried_ that they might be anything less than compatible on an other-worldly level. They _fit_ , it was as simple as that. She shifted her shoulders, adjusting her position leaning against Helena’s chest. Helena’s hand squeezed lightly around her waist, a soft kiss being placed against her temple as she resettled. Myka wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so at ease with someone. Just as it had felt when she’d walked in tonight, being here, sprawled out on the couch in Helena’s arms, with Trailer sleeping lazily on the floor in front of them, it all felt like _exactly_ where she was supposed to be. Though…there was one more thing…one more thing that could make the night perfect, although she was _loath_ to actually say it, knowing what would happen when she did, but she didn’t care, she was almost looking forward to it. 

She flexed her fingers against Helena’s hand, trying to draw her attention, “Is there…well…I’m assuming you made dessert…”

Myka felt Helena’s chest rise and fall with laughter, even as the jubilant sound of it reached her ears. Helena’s teeth nipped at the top her ear, “Myka Bering…are you admitting to _wanting sugar?”_

_“No_ …I just didn’t want us to forget about it if you did…I wouldn’t want all of your hard work to go to waste.”

Helena tucked her fingers under Myka’s chin, turning her head so that Helena could show Myka how much she was _not buying_ that line, “You realize I know you’re entirely full of it, correct?”

“Maybe.”

Helena smirked with satisfaction, but she didn’t push the issue too much. She knew this was a small victory, but that by no means meant she had won Myka over to her cause. She left a small peck against Myka’s lips, “There _might_ be something in the refrigerator if you are feeling… _sugary_.”

It was a poor attempt that Myka made to not literally _hop_ off of the couch in anticipation. She turned back to Helena, knowing full well that there was a bright tinge in her cheeks, “That…that was not excitement just then…that was a completely normal, entirely calm effort to show you I appreciate that you made dinner.”

“And dessert…”

“And maybe, possibly dessert.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “You’re going to pull a muscle with all the knots you’re tying yourself up in right now. Just go open the bloody refrigerator.”

Myka bounded back into the kitchen, her stomach doing, now commonplace cartwheels of eagerness at the prospect of whatever it was that Helena had made. When she pulled open the door of the fridge she came face to face with another bright yellow Grand Hotel box. She stood up and glanced at Helena over the door, disbelief dripping off her words, “Was the box entirely necessary? You’re in my house, I have plates, and like, _normal_ dessert serving vessels.”

“The fact that you just said ‘dessert serving vessels’ indicates the necessity of the box, darling,” Helena stated evenly, eyes directed to the TV so that Myka couldn’t see the smile on her face. “Plus, at this point it’s tradition.”

Myka sighed, but it was half-hearted, too entranced, enamored, too _everything_ with Helena right now to muster the strength for incredulity. She placed the box on the kitchen island and flipped it open, her eyes drawn not to the dessert inside, but, _of course_ , to the post-it on the inside lid.

_Do not think for one moment that I am not entirely aware of how close I am to winning this little game of ours._

The tinge that had been in her cheeks flared to new, possibly never before seen, shades of red. Helena was nothing if not the master of the subtle double entendre and it never failed to leave Myka breathless. She tucked the post-it into her pocket, “You know…I should leave this here to languish just to punish you for your cockiness.”

“It’s called _charm_.”

“Uh huh. _Charm_.”

“Tell me that that isn’t the most enticing tiramisu you’ve ever seen and I swear I will seek to control my unfailing charisma.”

She was sunk. Myka knew it, entirely, irretrievably sunk. Sunk under the weight of that _charm_ and teasing and heart and everything that was just _Helena_. With an exaggerated sigh, she lifted the cake out of the box and pulled a knife from the drawer, cutting a slice for each of them. The heady waft of espresso and cream filled the kitchen; Helena was getting far too good at finding her weak spots and taking full advantage of them. Myka idly wondered if she needed to limit the displays of her caffeine addiction in Helena’s presence all in the name of some kind of dessert-avoidant self-preservation. 

Walking back into the living room, she handed Helena her plate over her shoulder, “For the record, I like your charm.”

Helena smirked, “For the record, I knew that already.”

It was only after Myka had settled back onto the couch and taken her first bite of cake that she realized Helena was _staring_. Blatantly staring and paying zero attention to the plate in her hand. Myka gave her a disconcerted look, “What’s wrong?”

Helena shook her head quickly, a hasty gesture to clear the fog that had descended around her brain, centralizing all of her thought, focus, and attention onto Myka and Myka alone. She cleared her throat roughly, “Sorry…I just…well, it’s good to get actual confirmation that you do in fact enjoy the enforced sugar.”

Myka’s brow knit together in confusion and consideration. Helena’s voice sounded off-kilter, like she was trying to tell a joke, but accidentally ended up saying something she really hadn’t meant to say, some secret she never intended to get out. Myka slid closer to her on the couch, “Did you think I’d been _lying_ this whole time about that?”

“Well, one never knows with you,” Helena attempted a smirk, but it failed spectacularly. She sighed, “No…no, I didn’t. I just…I’ve never actually gotten to witness it. I don’t know, it’s an odd thing to explain.” Helena paused, trying to gather her thoughts, find some way to put into coherent words the ethereal surge of emotions that flooded her system at moments such as these. She was grateful that Myka didn’t try to step into the silence, but let it linger there, giving her time to figure out how she wanted to speak this thing which felt deeply personal. Eventually, she took a deep breath, a tentative, vocal step forward, “Do you ever have moments, when, maybe you see people _right after_ they’ve finished a tour, or maybe it was when you’d catch their eye in the midst of one, and you could actually _see it_ on their faces that this thing you’ve put your life into is bringing them joy? Like, there are these flashes of brilliance where everything comes clear and you realize that nothing is for naught, and all the energy you’ve put into it is made manifest in their reaction?”

Myka’s smile was brilliant, shining with complete and utter understanding, though it faded into a shade of nostalgia, “I don’t get those moments as much as I’d like anymore, now that I’m stuck behind my desk more, they’re harder and harder to come by, but I’ve realized I get them a lot now when I watch the interns come back. You can tell when they’ve given an amazing tour, they have these _looks_ on their faces that say it all just clicked, they’re happy, their customers are happy, and for me those moments make all the stress and the planning and the coordinating and the training so entirely worth it.”

“It’s deeply personal what we do. We put something of ourselves into our jobs. I suppose some people don’t operate that way, but I do. It was also seen as a bit of a fault in culinary school. I never finished things on time because of it, of how much of myself I was pouring into the tiniest of details, but I never cared about the censure. Cooking, baking in particular has always felt deeply intimate to me, that I’m revealing something of myself in it, but being stuck back in the kitchen, you never get to _see_ if that comes across, so when I’m able to actually witness it, those are moments I don’t take for granted, especially with you, Myka.”

Myka felt her cheeks flush. This felt like a new form of intimacy, something deeper than even how bare they had been last night. This was beyond skin and bone, but some piece of Helena’s soul that she felt like she was witnessing. 

Helena continued before Myka could comment, “I would be a horrible liar if I said that I didn’t put in an intense bit of extra effort with these things…for you…”

There was a temptation there to make a coy comment about her walls against sugar being torn down, about not being given a choice in this battle, but Myka couldn’t bring herself to say any of it. That familiar warmth she was beginning to associate with Helena and Helena alone beginning once again to spread through her bloodstream. She smiled deeply, inching closer to Helena on the couch, “Please believe me when I say that the effort? It hasn’t gone unnoticed. You might think that no one sees the passion that is just bubbling beneath the surface of everything you do, but I see it Helena. Every damn day, sugar or no sugar.”

A tiny, imperceptible smirk tugged at the corners of Helena’s mouth, “I feel like we’ve crept into some strange territory where this battle between you and sugar has become a bit of an odd metaphor for…other…aspects of our life.”

Myka shrugged with an impish smile, “Maybe we have, but my previous statement holds. I see it. I see you, _and_ , for the record,” she took another bite of her tiramisu to emphasize her point, “this is completely delicious and addicting.”

Helena’s smile returned in its full bright clarity with no hesitations at its edges, “It is one of my specialties.”

“Something to remember…”

**

“Ok, I just need to say something though it will fly in the face of common opinion,” Helena interjected into the silence of their return to television watching with a vigorous press of the pause button.

Myka sat up from where she had resumed her position reclining against Helena to give her a slight glance over her shoulder, “Sure…although with how hard you just hit that pause button, I’m a little afraid of whatever it is you’re going to say.”

“Everyone I know who has watched this show has gone on _and on_ about Barb, and I will admit, I like her, but I’m sorry, _why_ is no one talking about Nancy? She’s…well, she’s something I haven’t found an adequate word for yet.”

“Badass. You’re looking for badass,” Myka smirked. “I’m not kidding when I say this, _talk to Pete_. He _loves_ Nancy. He literally cannot stop raving about her. He will talk to you for hours about it.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Neither do I, so take it as you will.”

Helena gave a small sigh, “This show sort of reminds me of how I felt when I watched _Firefly_ , somehow nostalgic and wonderful, but wholly new. I love that feeling.”

Myka chuckled, “You’re revealing your inner nerd again, Nerd.”

“Oh hush,” Helena pinched at Myka’s side.

Myka pretended to squirm against the movement before tilting her head back and catching Helena off-guard with a kiss, “Despite the teasing, I get what you’re saying. It reminds me of _Twin Peaks_. I _loved_ that show, like it was borderline an obsession.”

“And you call me a nerd,” Helena murmured.

“Geez, I agree with you and you _tease_ me.”

“I will admit it has become one of my favorite pastimes.”

Myka rolled her eyes with an adoring smile.

“See,” Helena said, “I tease you and it makes you smile like that. Who could blame me for continuing to do it?”

“And thus we come full circle back to your _charm_.”

“Always, darling. Always.”

Myka reached to pick up the remote, but paused before hitting the button, giving Helena a scrutinizing, playful glance, “Can I just state that _of course_ you would love shows like this, because let’s face it…you’re _H.G. Wells_.”

Helena’s laughter echoed off the walls, momentarily jarring Trailer from sleep, “It’s taken two and a half months and you’ve finally cracked that joke. Just how long have you been holding that in? Because I’ve seen your bookshelves, Myka Bering. You’re a fan, a big, _nerdy_ H.G. Wells fan.”

The tips of Myka’s ears pinked, “I’ve been waiting for the opportune moment.” She leaned in and placed a kiss to the corner of Helena’s mouth, “And I’m not ashamed to admit that yeah, I’m a _big_ H.G. Wells fan.”

“Now who’s trying to be charming?” Helena asked, a bit shocked that her words came out slightly breathless.

“Oh that would most definitely be me,” Myka lingered against Helena’s lips for a few more seconds, before pulling away with a grin and pressing play on the remote, resettling against Helena’s chest as though none of the last few moments had happened, though she could feel how quickly Helena’s lungs were expanding with her forced breathing, and inwardly Myka reveled in her ability to leave Helena shaken.

As Myka reclined back on her chest, Helena’s mind clouded over with a thick wave of desire, but more than that with the soul-shaking revelation that all of this, _them_ , it already felt _normal_ , like they were the easiest thing in the world. Helena was acutely aware that while she was always willing to dive into relationships head first when it came to physical intimacy, her emotional walls took far more effort to batter down. Yet, with Myka, every intimacy revealed, every tease, every casual comment about life, about work, about their days, they just seemed to come _naturally_. Everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours had felt like her life was finally settling into how it was _supposed_ to be going. That revelation simultaneously unnerved her and somehow set her free, and she wondered, not for the first time, if this was what _home_ felt like.

**

Myka could feel herself drifting towards the end of the second episode, her lack of sleep coupled with a long day at work and an entirely too full stomach of food, engulfed in the warmth of Helena’s arms, she felt like sleep would be a _spectacular_ idea. Yet…she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready for the night to end. She wasn’t ready for Helena to leave, and she knew she could ask her to stay, but what if that was _too much?_ It seemed like a natural question, it was late and Helena was already there, but they were still just beginning and Myka didn’t want to push.

It was those thoughts that inspired her to reach for the remote and tip her head back on Helena’s shoulder with an anticipating look, “One more?”

Helena raised her eyebrows in surprise, “Honestly, I have no idea how you’re still _awake_ , but absolutely, I’m game if you are.”

Myka tilted her head back at an exaggerated angle, raising an arm up to curl around Helena’s neck and draw her down for a slow, lingering kiss, willing her thoughts to be conveyed through her lips about how much she just wanted Helena to _be there_. When she pulled away, she was satisfied to see that Helena’s eyes were still closed, lips slightly parted in some kind of contented breathlessness.

There was something about Myka’s kiss, about her openness, the way that her eyes were shining with words she refused to say, words that clearly told Helena that Myka wanted nothing more than for the night to keep going, that made something in Helena’s chest tighten, uncoil, and shift. She was _happy. Deliriously happy_. Here in the comforting warmth of Myka’s house, with the sound of Trailer’s light snores filling in the brief moments of silence. Here with Myka in her arms, dishes in the sink, their empty wine glasses on the table, she realized that she’d never felt quite like _this_. It was that feeling that made the words she hadn’t been planning on giving life to tonight slip past her lips without any thought to the consequences of them. She was too happy, she was too content, and because of that, because of the _fear_ of losing all of this, she had to ask, “Myka…” Her voice felt raw in her throat, and she wondered if she’d actually be able to finish the sentence now that she’d started it, “What are we going to do in October?”

Helena didn’t want them to just run through the coming months without consequences, just streaking headlong towards that cliff with little thought to the rocks below. She wanted everything to be _clear_ , so that they might be able to see where they were going. She wanted to somehow feel steady on her feet, despite the uneven ground they were treading over. More than anything she needed to know where Myka was at, because Helena knew that she wanted this, _them_ , even if they didn’t know how they were going to manage it, but she needed to know if Myka was there too, because if she wasn’t? Well then, this was all for nothing. She needed to know with a desperation that clawed at her ribs whether or not they were actually going to do this, decide to throw all caution to the wind and try to defy the odds, or if they were going to just float adrift all summer with little heed to where they were heading. 

Unintentionally, Myka’s shoulders tensed against Helena. It wasn’t that Helena’s question was unexpected, Myka had been anticipating this conversation all night, and yet somewhere in the back of her mind she had wondered if they would just look past it, ease into some kind of normalcy until they were ready to eventually wade their way through this conversation. She let out a tight sigh, because of course, she knew they needed to talk about this, about them, but the thought of letting tonight go, of letting this simplicity and contentment slip away, for one small second that thought was too much for Myka to bear. She stroked her thumb over Helena’s knuckles where their fingers were tangled together across her stomach. Where mere moments before, she had been so relaxed she practically didn’t know how to handle it, now her insides were a riotous collision of nervousness and unsteadiness, twisted up with the messy fear that everything was about to come crashing down at her feet in a disastrous heap. Another ragged, resigned sigh escaped her throat as she maintained her hold on Helena’s hand, “I wish…I wish I had an easy answer to that, but all I’ve got is I have no damn clue.”

With her free hand, Helena skated her fingers through Myka’s curls, a vain attempt to bring some sort of calm into the abrupt tension. Her words when she spoke though were in direct contradiction to her movements, doing nothing but adding weight to what suddenly felt like a sinking ship, “We need to talk about this, Myka.”

Myka shifted to sit up, turning so that she could face Helena properly, tucking their knees up against each other, tangling their fingers together in Helena’s lap. She felt foolish for doing so, but Myka found she could only muster up the strength to direct her words to Helena’s fingers, afraid of what she might see in Helena’s eyes at what she was going to say, “I don’t know what to do about October…I think we’ve both known from the beginning that October is so beyond our control that there isn’t actually a lot to say about it. What I will say though…is that I want this. I want to see where this could go, and I’m not so cavalier as to say October be damned, _but_ I’m also tired of being afraid of some fucking month on the calendar and letting it dictate my life.”

Helena took a shuddering breath, suddenly overcome with the _weight_ of hearing Myka actually _say it_ , that she wanted them. That reality was enough to give Helena some odd sense of _hope_ , something she hadn’t felt in years, “I refuse to be ruled by fear any longer, Myka. I just…I wish this wasn’t so complicated.”

“I’m not sure there’s any way to avoid the complicated though.” Myka’s teeth chased over the corner of her lip. _Just ask…_ She didn’t want to give voice to the question, to even entertain the damn thing, but she knew down in her bones that she had to get it out there, out of her head, out of her heart, “Do you…do you only want the summer, Helena? Because that obviously solves the October problem, but…”

Before Myka could finish her sentence, Helena tightened her grip around their hands, finally drawing Myka’s eye contact, along with a swift halt to her words, “I want _everything_ , and maybe that’s foolish and impulsive to say after so little time, but…I find myself woefully unable to sugar coat anything when we’re backed up against the wall like this. All of this…the summer makes it feel so _immediate_ and I don’t want you to question one ounce of how I’m feeling. I’m in this, Myka, for wherever it takes us…” Helena’s words tapered off on a hesitant whisper.

“But…” Myka prodded.

“But…I also realize that it’s probably foolish to look beyond the here and now at the moment.”

Myka raked a hand through her curls feeling a heavy dose of frustrated fear pulse in her chest, “I get that…because who the hell knows what the next couple of months will bring…”

“ _But…_ ” Helena teased, attempting to lighten the mood.

Helena’s tone pulled a smile from Myka, an exasperated roll of her eyes, “ _But_ …I also don’t want us just leaving this for October, and suddenly you’re…you’re leaving,” Myka could barely get the word out it tasted so bitter in her mouth, “and we have no idea what to do next.”

“I don’t think either of us are proposing completely ignoring the messy reality that we find ourselves in, but I’m just not sure there’s much we can do about it, beyond being aware that it’s out there.”

“I hate that it feels like it’s just going to be hanging over us though. _October is coming_ …cue the dramatic music.”

A swift burst of laughter fled Helena’s lungs, “You _never_ get to call me a nerd again. Was that _Game of Thrones?_ ”

Myka smirked, “Blame Pete.”

“The never-ending saga of Myka Bering and her secrets continues.”

“Oh that’s me…I’m just a well of mystery.”

A weighted, but somehow _lighter_ silence descended around them, lingering there with the faint edge of hope that they would, at some point, figure everything out. Myka lifted their entwined hands up to her lips, ghosting a kiss against Helena’s knuckles, “I think we’re still stuck on your original question of what we’re supposed to do?”

Helena ran her free hand over Myka’s knee, pushing slightly against the muscles of her thigh, “I think…I think we _live_. We enjoy the summer, the time we have together. We figure out what’s best for us, and we see where we end up. I’m not interested in some debate over definitions, Myka. I don’t want to spend days and weeks deciding if we’re _together_ or not. I don’t want to waste that kind of time, and so again, in the face of _immediacy_ , I know that, for me, whatever seems to be happening between us is unlike anything I’ve ever quite experienced, and I want to see what we could be together, because…well…I think it might just be spectacular.”

Myka couldn’t help the smile that overwhelmed her face, “I want us to have that, the spectacular and the nerdy and the maybe this is crazy that we found each other this way, but we did so let’s run with it. I’m right there with you on the wanting everything. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I’m not fucking terrified about October, Helena, but, you’re right, I don’t want that tainting the summer, the time we have. So I’m with you…”

“Still right there on the cliff, huh?” Helena asked.

Myka could tell that Helena was going for teasing, but that beneath the thin veneer of her _charm_ there was a deep sense of vulnerability in the question. She leaned forward and brushed a kiss to Helena’s mouth, “Right next to you, _I promise_.”

Unbidden, flooding into Myka’s mind were all of her questions from her ride home. Even with Helena looking at her with eyes shining with an open honesty, a palpable sense of _love_ , Myka couldn’t help the echo of Giselle’s name resounding in her brain. 

Helena watched as a flood of emotions raced across Myka’s face completely unchecked. Myka’s eyes retreating from a happy kind of calm to a roiling worry in mere seconds. Helena traced the backs of her fingers across Myka’s cheek, “Where did you just go on me, darling?”

Myka shook her head, “Nowhere. I’m here.” She _didn’t_ want to have this part of the conversation. She really, _really_ didn’t want to admit to Helena that she was worried she was just a rebound fling.

“Believe it or not, Myka Bering, but in the few short months I have known you, I have learned to know when you’re lying, and right then? You were absolutely lying.”

Myka pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh, eyes squeezing shut in adamant refusal to say this while looking directly at Helena, “I just…and _please, please_ do not take this as any kind of _doubt_ in anything that has happened with us…but…God…I hate myself for saying this.” _Just spit it out, might as well._ “You and Giselle…it hasn’t been that long…”

A faint smile, which Myka couldn’t see, too busy keeping her eyes shut and fending off reality, graced Helena’s lips. She should have known, it was an inevitable question, one that she didn’t blame Myka for worrying over. She squeezed Myka’s hand, but this time it did little to encourage Myka to look up, “You don’t want to be a rebound.”

Myka sunk forward, burying her forehead against their hands in Helena’s lap, “I’m not saying that I think that’s what’s going on…please don’t take it that way.”

Helena chuckled, “Darling, if you would actually _look at me_ you would see that I’m not taking it in any such way.” Hesitantly, Myka’s head lifted to gaze at Helena uncertainly. Helena gave her a small smile, “You are perfectly within your rights to ask that question, Myka, because you’re right, it hasn’t been that long. However, Myka, I wish I could explain to you just what it has been like for me to be with you these last few months, how it has made me realize how utterly miserable I was, how very much _not_ in love with Giselle I was. I have been happier here, even in the little time that we have had, than I was in all the time I was with her, and maybe that’s hard to believe, but it is the most ardent truth I can give you. You, Myka Bering, are no rebound. You…every time I look at you, I can’t help but feel like I’m seeing my future.”

Tears unexpectedly rimmed Myka’s eyes which she tried to thumb away quickly. She laughed with a hint of self-deprecation, “You know…if the baking thing doesn’t work out, you could make a hell of a living following in the footsteps of your namesake.”

Helena smirked, allowing Myka the minor deflection, even as she raised a hand up to swipe away a few of the tears that had escaped onto Myka’s cheeks, “Words and the Wells’ family have always gone rather well together.”

Myka smiled happily, delirious with happiness, even as her mind spun her in circles.

_She’s happy here…_  
She’s happier here than she was in DC…  
She could stay…  
No.  
Do. Not. Make the same mistake you made with Sam. 

Deep down, Myka knew, had come to accept the fact that she _hadn’t_ pushed Sam to stay. It had been a mutual decision, one that he had brought up of his own accord. She had been ecstatic that he wanted to stay, but she had never forced the issue. Yet, when he left, when everything fell apart, he threw those words back at her with venom. She had pushed too hard, wanted too much for them something that he never desired. He claimed he’d never wanted a life on the Island, that it was an illusion Myka had chosen to believe for the sake of keeping them together. After he had left, she had come to terms with the fact that everything he had said, every accusation he had thrown at her had been a sad attempt to keep his hands clean from any kind of guilt. Yet, those words lingered in the back of her mind.

She wouldn’t even come close to toeing the same line with Helena. If they got to that point, _ever_ , Myka had to feel like it was Helena’s choice, and Helena’s alone. Myka would not be the one to ask that question. It was too risky. 

“You’re thinking about something,” Helena squinted her eyes at Myka, as though that extra effort could help her read whatever thoughts she could see racing behind Myka’s eyes.

_Don’t say it._  
Don’t say it.  
Don’t say it. 

Myka swallowed every word she ever could have imagined about a future, about staying, about their _life_ , and simply shrugged her shoulders with a small sigh, her fingers keeping up an idle toying with Helena’s, “I’m just…I’m not really one of those people who does so well with the ‘not having a plan’ sort of thing, and this…us…it’s very much a no plan situation. I don’t…I don’t usually jump without being assured there’s a net underneath me, and that…this…I just feel a little off-kilter. I’m in unknown territory here.”

Helena smiled softly, their conversation from the night before, the one that bordered so closely upon that word _love_ lingered in her mind, “Remember that net or no net, you aren’t jumping alone.”

“I know…but…”

“You wish there was more certainty.”

Myka nodded, feeling more tears building behind her eyes that she desperately tried to fight back.

Helena laid a palm against Myka’s cheek, thumb tracing over delicate cheekbone, feeling the heat from Myka’s skin race across her own, reveling in the way Myka leaned into the touch, “I wish, more than anything, that I could give you some sort of promise about all of this, about where we’re headed, about where we will find ourselves. However, I also refuse to give you promises that I have no way of knowing are able to be kept. If you’re looking for a net though, some sort of assurance…what I can give you is that I am here, I am in this with you, completely, for however long it takes us to find a plan, a road map that works for us, together.”

“I just hate feeling like we’re living with a sword over our heads, ya know?”

Helena nodded, leaning forward and catching Myka’s lips in a small kiss, “I know, but we can’t live like that, it will make all of this hurt far too much, and I’m not interested in hurting you. Therefore, I think we make the most of the time that we _do_ have, and when October gets here…it gets here, and we figure out what our next step is.”

“Now that’s a plan I can get behind,” Myka smiled hesitantly. She bit down on the corner of her lip, “ I can’t promise you though that at some point, that plan? Which kind of feels like a plan to _not have a plan_ , by the way. I can’t promise that I won’t freak out about it at some point…”

Helena smirked slightly, “I will consider myself amply forewarned then.”

“You’re teasing me again…”

“As I have told you, it’s growing to be a favorite pastime. _Consider yourself forewarned._ ”

Myka shook her head, unable to contain nor control her smile, “What on earth am I going to do with you?”

A thousand responses raced through Helena’s mind. Each one more impossible to say than the last. _Love me. Never leave me. Build a life with me._ Yet the ugly, messy truth remained, they had _no plan_. October was inevitable, and they had so little time to figure everything out. She wanted to trust that they would manage, that they would find a plan that wouldn’t leave Myka off-kilter, and yet the worry remained…what if they didn’t? What if it didn’t matter how desperately in love they seemed to be? How could you be in love across hundreds of miles? She was tired of thinking about it for the night, tired of weighing the pros and cons, and debating the details. Myka was _right there_. They were together, in the here and very much in the now, and that had to be worth something. She fought her way through the words that were clogging her train of thought and landed on the best option she could think of, the only option they both seemed to be willing to say for the moment, “You could jump off this cliff with me.”

Myka was certain she was _melting_ , melting and drowning at the same time, because _good God_ could this woman do things to her heart. It was a small thing, this metaphor they’d developed so quickly, this way of saying the _real thing_ they wanted to say without actually _saying it_ and complicating everything more than it already was. Inside her chest, her heart was pounding with some mixed up mess of want and love and panic, because she was so crazy in love and Helena was right in front of her, but they had _so little time_. Yet… _you have tonight. You have months worth of tonights left. Just jump._

She willed her words to drive her towards action, deciding that maybe they’d finally said everything that needed to be said, for tonight. She leaned forward with a coy sort of grin, stopping millimeters from Helena’s mouth, whispering, “I’m going to make another nerdy reference.”

Helena’s eyelids fluttered at Myka’s proximity, her blood suddenly surging to the surface of her skin, cascading her cheeks and her chest in red. When her tongue actually wrapped around words they were stumbling and breathless, “And what is that, darling?”

Myka smirked, “You jump, I jump.”

Helena rolled her eyes, a smile overtaking her face, “ _Titanic_ is less nerdy and more hopelessly romantic.”

Myka leaned as close as she possibly could without actually kissing Helena, “Permission to be hopelessly romantic?”

“Granted, love.”

_There it is_ , Myka thought. One word, one tiny little syllable, a barely whispered sigh between their lips, but it had been _said_. It didn’t matter to Myka that it was used as a term of endearment, she didn’t care about context, she didn’t care about _anything_ other than the fact that it was now out there, between them, hanging precariously with them on the edge of that damned cliff, and Myka realized that maybe, for the first time in her life, she didn’t give a damn about whether or not there was a net below, she just wanted to jump, and possibly never land.

Despite wanting to surge forward, Myka simply leaned in, the space between them so minimal that it was practically non-existent, and when Helena sighed into the kiss with a sense of relief, Myka wondered if she had ever _truly_ been as happy as she was in this moment. This moment that was made up of a million different tiny things that Myka noted with crystal clear clarity, cataloguing each of them so that she might never forget them. The feeling of Helena’s hands leaving hers, one reaching up to tangle in her curls with just the right amount of pull, the other cupped around her waist, just barely lifting up her shirt so that there was the tantalizing promise of Helena’s warmth with their skin pressed together. The way they eased back onto the couch, neither sure if it was Helena who pulled Myka down with her, or if Myka had eased Helena back, but realizing they really didn’t care as long as they kept moving. The fluttering rapidity of Helena’s pulse where it thundered beneath Myka’s thumb as she rested a hand against Helena’s neck. 

The urge, the impatience of the night had disappeared, leaving in its wake an aching want for _everything_ , for _more_ , for whatever they had to offer to each other. Myka wanted nothing more than to let her worries and questions and fears fade away, she wanted to _live_ , to feel Helena beneath her palms while she could, before she was too far away to touch, and if the way that Helena’s hands had started to roam over her body were any indication, Helena felt exactly the same way. Some sort of pulsating need, some kind of panicked want, echoed through their movements, each seeming to try to make all those promises that they refused to actually say with nothing but their hands, their skin, their lips, their breath. 

As Helena’s nails, nails which Myka noticed with a thrill of satisfaction seemed to have a heavier layer of polish on them today compared to how they usually looked, dragged down her back, Myka couldn’t help but arch her back, letting out a hiss that caused her lips to pull away from Helena. In the momentary interlude, Myka rested her forehead against Helena’s, shifting her legs to tangle them tighter with Helena’s, though the couch made for a difficult fit for them both. She whispered out, her voice already thick and heavy with need, “Can you stay?”

A tiny puff of laughter fled Helena’s nostrils, “Did you really think I had any intention of _leaving_ at the moment?”

Myka felt her cheeks surge with a blush that had nothing to do with their current position, “No…but…the time…”

Helena cupped a hand around Myka’s neck pulling her back down for a searing kiss, “If I left…I wouldn’t get any sleep anyway for want of you…therefore… _of course I’m staying_.”

A trickling cascade of desire danced down Myka’s spine. There was _nothing_ she could possibly imagine saying in response to that, nothing that wouldn’t come out as some incoherent jumble, nothing that wouldn’t come out as _begging_ , and so she didn’t say anything. She simply sat up, pulling Helena up with her by crooking her fingers under the hem of Helena’s shirt and tugging, and leaving another blistering kiss to Helena’s mouth before shifting and standing, drawing Helena up with her. With hands wrapped around Helena’s hips and lips refusing to leave Helena’s, Myka maneuvered them through the living room in a delicate dance around furniture and a completely oblivious sleeping dog towards her bedroom.

**

In the wee hours of the morning, with Helena curled up against her shoulder soundly asleep, Myka would wonder how on earth a night so similar to the one before could somehow feel so _different_. She didn’t know whether it was that they had more certainty about where they were or whether it was the fact that everything was still so _uncertain_ , but whatever it was, Myka was sure of one thing. As wondrous as the night before had been, tonight had been palpably, miraculously _more_. Her skin still tingled from the trails Helena’s nails had blazed across it, leaving goosebumps and red marks in their wake. Her lips felt swollen, almost numb, the muscles in her legs tight from the tension that had built up in them as Helena had drawn her to the brink and stopped so many times she lost count, only knowing that the collapse that inevitably came was earth-shattering. Somehow, her ears still rang with Helena’s stuttered, breathless exhale of her name, a significant shift from the neighbor-waking screams of the night before, but again, to Myka’s heart those faint whispers, the heady want that pulsed through Helena’s broken words were _more_. 

Faintly, Myka even pondered if this feeling, this soul-shifting feeling had less to do with the admittedly remarkable sex and more to do with the overwhelming sense of _normalcy_ that came _after_. She wondered if it had to do with the moment she had come out of the bathroom to find Helena sitting up contentedly petting Trailer who had apparently made his way in from the living room to take up his regular residence at the foot of the bed. She wondered if it had to do with the look Helena had given her at that moment, at how happy she had seemed, how at ease. She wondered if it had to do with the adorably distracting vision that Helena had been then, adorned in one of her University of Michigan shirts that Helena had to have found in a random drawer while Myka had been out of the room. She wondered if it had to do with Helena telling her with a smile that she didn’t mind Trailer’s presence in bed at all, how it made it feel _cozy_ , when Myka had queried if it bugged her, remembering all the times that it _had_ bothered Sam. 

Whatever it was, whether it was a singular moment or a culmination of every single thing that had happened since she had come home, Myka knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was happier, more content than she had been in years. Yet, in the back of her mind, like a haunting echo of a shout that somehow still lingered on the air hours later, she knew that that happiness would come with a price. A price that would come due in four short months.

**

“Helena Wells… just whose house are you walking out of at… _seven in the morning?_ ” 

Not even Wolly’s booming, early morning teasing that was currently echoing all the way down the main road of Harrisonville could shake the serenity from Helena’s mind. She was so wrapped up in the memory of Myka’s warmed with sleep voice whispering, “Have a good day, Nerd,” of the way that Myka’s hand had lingered around her neck when she had leaned down for a goodbye kiss, the adorable little whimper that Myka had let escape her throat when Helena insisted that she really had to go to work, that she barely even had the mental capacity to even _notice_ Wolly. 

She stopped at the corner of Myka’s yard, waiting for him to come bounding down the sidewalk towards her, a confused, amused, almost impressed smile on his face. He threw an arm around her shoulder with a lifted eyebrow, “It is seven a.m., and in all my years of knowing you, I have _never_ seen you looking _this happy_ at such an hour of the morning. You’re usually scowling and pestering someone for your tea at this point, not looking all,” he wiggled a finger around her face, as if searching for the right word in her features, “ _blissful_.”

Helena shrugged playfully, looping an arm around Wolly’s waist and pushing him to resume walking, “What can I say, William? It’s a beautiful day. The time be damned.”

“Uh huh. Yeah. I’m _absolutely_ going to let you just side-step right on by the fact that you’re exiting _Myka’s house_ on this, admittedly, beautiful morning.”

An unavoidable tinge of pink raced into Helena’s cheeks, “I suppose my plan to just casually mention all of this to you at work today has flown out the window.”

“That would be a definitive yes. And what, pray tell, is _‘all of this?’_ ”

Helena sighed, rolling her eyes at Wolly’s need for her to spell out what she felt was plainly obvious, “All of this being that things with Myka and I have…progressed.”

“Oh God,” Wolly groaned, his free palm coming up to drag down his face. “Please don’t tell me that I’m accompanying you on your walk of shame.”

_The damn thing should be called a ride of pride._ Myka’s words from the other night careened into Helena’s mind, eliciting a fresh wave of pink to flood her cheeks. She bit the inside of her cheek in an effort to stem the tide of her blushing, “It is _hardly_ a walk of shame. It is merely the logical end to a rather prolonged…date.”

Laughter boomed out of Wolly’s lungs, “Ok, you’re going to need to clarify some things here. Since when do you and Myka go out on _dates?_ ”

“Since roughly 36 hours ago…”

“Has anyone ever told you, Hel, that evasiveness is _not_ an attractive feature on you?”

Helena chuckled, “Has anyone ever told _you_ , William, that being nosey is also not attractive?”

“I don’t have a bloody care if I’m being nosey. _Spill_.”

“You’re a gossip hound, William Wolcott, but _fine_ ,” Helena sighed before proceeding to tell him in extremely _vague_ details what had transpired since she had left his house the other night.

She talked until they reached the staff entrance to the Grand, Wolly’s face devolving into deeper and deeper shades of amusement, though Helena could tell that lying just beneath the surface was a steady layer of concern. He leaned against the side of the building, “I _cannot believe_ that you were just going to wait to tell me all of this later today. How on earth did I not have one measly text this morning saying, ‘Hey, guess what happened?’”

Helena rolled her eyes, “Excuse me for needing a bit of time to sleep, _and_ to get my head around everything that had happened. It was a bit of a whirlwind.”

“Ugh…ok, I love you. I _adore you_ , even, but I really don’t want to think about why you needed sleep this morning.”

“Such a _prude_ , William.”

“As ever, I remain a gentleman,” Wolly chuckled. “So this is happening? Like truly happening? You’re dating Myka?”

“Though I feel we are both far too old for such trivial distinctions, for lack of a better word, _yes_ , Myka and I are dating. We’re together.”

“And you’re both completely alright with the minor detail of, you know, you leaving in a few months?”

Helena swallowed down the urge to blurt out that she simply _didn’t want to think about it_ , knowing that Wolly with his never-ceasing capacity for love and support was simply asking the obvious question, as he was wont to do, in order to ensure that she was ok. She leaned next to him, gazing towards where the sun was starting to crest the tops of the trees on the golf course, basking everything in a buttery glow. She attempted to find the right words to describe the understanding she felt they had reached the night before, “I wouldn’t say that we’re _alright_ with it, but, obviously, we aren’t avoiding the reality. We’re simply seeing where the rest of the summer takes us. Neither of us are interested in ignoring what we have anymore, and so the only option was to dive in or give up. Knowing both of us as well as you do, you shouldn’t be surprised that we’re far too stubborn for the latter choice.”

Wolly chuckled slightly, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Yeah, somehow that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

“I think I may very well be in love with her, Will, and I know that sounds bloody _insane_ at this point, but I’m long past the point of denying it. I can’t in good conscience not _try_ , not when I think there’s something wondrous here.”

Wolly nodded slowly, “I get that. You know I get that, and you know that I support you one hundred percent. I just want to make sure that…”

“That I don’t get hurt. Yes, well, I’m not entirely sure that’s a plausible option at this point, however, I’m choosing whatever hurt may come over the hurt of letting Myka go before we’ve given it our best shot.”

“I’ve known it from the moment I met her…that if you two met…the world would be in all kinds of trouble.”

Helena couldn’t help her smile, that feeling of _inevitability_ once again settling into her veins, “I welcome the trouble if it means we’re together.”

“So you’re happy?” Wolly asked, peering at Helena with a sidelong, discerning glance.

“I’m…” Helena’s brain scrambled to find the right word, but failed spectacularly, “I’m without words for how happy I am.”

Wolly leaned over and placed a kiss to Helena’s temple, “You know me, Hel. If you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

“Ever my optimistic, supportive William.” Helena glanced at her watch, “I need to get home if I have any hope of being back up here on time.”

Wolly nodded, “I need to get to it. The ovens are callin’. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Helena set off down the hill, only to have Wolly’s voice hesitantly call her back, “Hel?”

“Yes, William?”

He squinted against the sun to try and see her properly, “You’re sure you’re good?”

Helena’s smile was devastating, giving the sunshine a heady competition for which was brighter, “I’m so very much beyond good, Wolly. I promise.”

He nodded with a wave and headed into the building causing him to miss the way that Helena’s shining smile faded slowly. There was no denying that she was happy, yet she also knew that there was no denying that no matter what happened…the uncertainty remained; October, always, relentlessly remained.

**

_Too much, too fast._  
Too much, too fast.  
Too much, too fast. 

The words beat relentlessly against Helena’s temple. She had gotten out of work later than usual, a sudden rush into the dining room at the tail end of dinner, leaving her with no option other than going home at the end of the night to a house that felt darker than usual and far too quiet. For one faint moment as she stepped out into the warmth of the night, she had debated letting her feet carry her left rather than right, uphill rather than downhill. Myka’s house was so close, so tempting. 

_Too much, too fast._

Yet, those words had prodded her to the right, driven her downhill because she feared it would look too desperate to show up at Myka’s door. Wouldn’t three nights in a row of being together be too much? Wouldn’t Myka possibly see her as being too needy? She knew they were running on limited time, but she _also knew_ that this was so new that she didn’t want to push too hard and ruin it all before it had begun. 

So she had gone home, and now she sat on her couch, slightly miserable and more than a bit lonely, the pathetic remnants of her patched together dinner lying abandoned on the coffee table. She idly flipped through her phone, attempting to distract herself, but there was no denying the truth. She missed Myka. She missed Myka’s house, its warmth, its cozy comfort. She missed Trailer, the way he always seemed to be right under her heels, wanting nothing more than to cuddle, to be next to someone. Her house felt hollow, empty, as far from _home_ as she could imagine.

She hovered in the silence for as long as she could stand it, seeking distraction at every turn, but eventually she gave it up as lost. She had planned to call Myka before going to bed, but that plan was getting thrown out the window with her willpower. 

“Hey you,” Myka picked up almost immediately, her voice betraying her smile, her seeming _pleasure_ that Helena had called.

A steady wave of heady, dizzying comfort rolled over Helena, a reaction she had long since stopped denying had _everything_ to do with how she felt when Myka was around. She knew her own smile, her veritable longing would be dripping from her voice, but she didn’t care, “Hello darling.”

“How was the day?” A faint _woof_ carried through the speaker accompanied by Myka’s wistful laughter, “Trailer says hi, by the way.”

Helena didn’t care one bit how pathetic it might have been to be giddy at such a sentiment, she rather chose to revel in it, “Poor boy, missing my lovely ear scratches.”

“He is, in fact, woefully lost without you. No one to sneak him snacks, fall prey to his adorableness. He knows I’ve long since become immune.”

“ _Liar_.”

“Well… _maybe_ ,” Myka mumbled, “but he still misses you.”

“Assure him that I miss him as well. You Berings…you are infinitely missable.”

Myka chuckled, her voice dipping a little lower, “Oh we’re very aware of that. We should come with a warning label.”

“That would be _wildly_ helpful.” Helena sighed roughly, this conversation was doing nothing to tamp down her desire to be at Myka’s.

“You haven’t answered my question…” Myka said.

Helena’s brow furrowed, backtracking through the distraction of their conversation to find the question Myka had asked. Eventually realization dawned, “Oh, my day. My day was long, but fairly uneventful. No fires. Nothing burned down. I usually take that as a win when Wolly and I are in the kitchen.”

Myka laughed softly, “That’s a pretty low bar for a good day.”

“Do you have any suggestions for how I might raise that bar? New qualifications for a good day?”

“Oh…I don’t know…” Myka pretended to muse, “My definition of a good day usually involves spending time with the pup, maybe, _possibly_ seeing my girlfriend, but hey, that’s just me.”

Helena felt her cheeks flush with giddy anticipation. Too much, too fast be damned. She bit the corner of her lip, “If that’s the standard, then I am stuck wallowing in a very much _not good_ day, seeing as I don’t fit either of those qualifications.”

“Well…you did see us this morning…” 

Helena could hear the playfulness in Myka’s voice, and she wanted nothing more than to be able to see the way Myka’s eyes would be sparkling. “The sun was barely up when I left, that hardly counts. Come to think of it, your eyes were barely open when I left, and neither were Trailer’s, which means that you both are also stuck in the midst of a not so good day.”

“Huh…you’re right. You’d think there might be something we could do about that.”

“You’d think…”

There was a moment’s pause, each of them painfully aware of their own breathing, neither quite seeming to want to take the first step, until Myka finally seemed to break, “Are you busy?”

Helena grinned, “I am the definition of _not_ busy, right now.”

“Are you up for company?”

“Are you offering to send Trailer down the hill by himself to keep me company? Because that doesn’t seem like responsible ownership.”

“I’m sure I could be persuaded to join him.”

“My door is open.”

“I’ll be there soon.” Myka hung up before Helena could say anything else, too wrapped up in anticipation. 

Helena stared at her screen for a moment longer with a wistful, contented sigh. Apparently, today was destined to be a good day after all.

**

It had barely been a week and yet they had sunk into such a sense of normalcy and routine that Helena was finding it difficult to remember why they had waited so long to _try_. Most nights found Helena sprawled comfortably across Myka’s couch, one or both of them completely exhausted from a long day at work, the remnants of their dinner idle on the coffee table and Trailer asleep on the floor. 

They found themselves in such a position on a Sunday night near the end of June. Trailer’s soft snores barely registered in Helena’s consciousness, too focused on the feeling of Myka resting against her chest and the episode of _Stranger Things_ on the television. 

They were halfway through their second episode of the night when Myka’s phone vibrated. Helena didn’t pay it any attention until Myka mumbled, “Oh boy…”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Helena idly commented.

“We have to go.” Myka said it as though it was the most commonplace thing in the world, as though it wasn’t a sentence that would cause any question.

“I’m sorry, what?” Helena sat up, jostling Myka slightly.

Myka turned a secretive grin towards her, wiggling her phone, “We’ve been summoned. We have to go.”

“Go _where_ , exactly? It’s 11:30 at night, where on earth is there to go on this Island?” 

Myka continued to smirk and tossed Helena her phone so she could read the text from Pete for herself. She watched in amusement as Helena’s brow furrowed as she attempted to decipher what was on the screen. Eventually, Helena turned the screen back towards Myka with an arch of her eyebrow, “And I’m supposed to understand this entirely random string of emojis? I may have been here for a few months, but I’ve yet to become fluent in _Pete_.”

Myka chuckled, patting Helena’s thigh as she stood up, “That text is Pete speak for beach night, Nerd. We’ve gotta go.”

Helena stared incredulously as Myka wandered into her bedroom. She could hear drawers being pulled open, the shifting sounds of Myka changing her clothes. Enticed by the images such sounds elicited in her mind _and_ her confusion at what was happening, Helena moved from the couch to go lean against the door frame of Myka’s bedroom. Momentarily distracted by Myka tugging her bathing suit top on, covering up inch upon inch of skin that Helena wished had remained uncovered, Helena found her throat thick as she tried to speak.

Catching the look on Helena’s face, Myka grinned despite feeling a flush rush into her chest, “Something on your mind over there?”

“Aside from my continued confusion as to what is happening, no, darling, nothing on my mind at all,” Helena attempted innocence, knowing she would fail.

An indelicate kind of snort left Myka’s nose, “Uh huh.”

“I’m not so easily distracted by your wiles, Myka Bering.”

“Again, I say, _uh huh_.”

“You look far too pleased with yourself, therefore I’m ignoring you and asking, once again, what’s going on.”

Myka tugged on a pair of basketball shorts and walked into the bathroom, beginning to extract beach towels from the linen closet while calling back out to Helena, “It’s finally warm enough out that the lake won’t be freezing cold at night. We have a little tradition between all of us that once that happens we have a beach night. It will most likely be the first of many, but the first one is always special. We go out, we have a few drinks, we swim, we continue to deprive ourselves of any rational amount of sleep.”

“You all continue to prove to me how insane you all are…”

Myka popped her head around the bathroom door with a beaming smile, “Precisely.” She nodded her head out towards the hallway, “Will you go grab all the flashlights that are in the hall closet?”

Despite remaining slightly perplexed, Helena did as she was asked, only to open the closet and find at least seven flashlights staring at her. “Darling…are you sure we need _all_ of these?”

“Yes!” 

“ _Why?_ ”

Myka emerged from the bedroom, pulling her curls up into a messy bun, “No fires on the Island without a special permit.”

“But we’ve had countless fires this summer…”

“Wolly, Pete, and I have permits for household fire pits. None of us have the pull to get one for the beach. With all the woods around and the fact that most of the Island is protected ground, they can’t risk someone having a fire get out of control. We don’t have the infrastructure to fight it off. This place would go up in flames in a second. They can’t take the risk.”

Helena considered the logic of what Myka had just said and then shook her head with a smile, “This place is so unbelievably odd.”

Myka shrugged playfully, “Odd, wondrous, same difference.” She leaned in and left a small peck against Helena’s smile, “Come on, we need to stop at your place to get your suit.”

**

“Now who is easily distracted?” Helena asked, pulling a tank top down over her swimsuit, while Myka sat on the bed, pupils dilated slightly, cheeks tinged a delightful shade of pink.

“Me. Absolutely me.” Myka reached out and tugged on Helena’s wrist, encouraging Helena to shift and sink into her lap. Myka slipped her hands beneath Helena’s tank top, fingers running up and down the bare skin of Helena’s back, “You are _nothing but_ distracting.”

Helena tucked a curl that had slipped free of Myka’s bun behind her ear, letting her fingers dance down the sides of Myka’s neck, reveling in the way Myka’s eyes slipped shut at the movement, “Whatever shall we do with you in your…distracted…state?”

Myka flexed her fingertips against Helena’s back, encouraging her to close the minimal distance between them. For several dizzying moments, they were lost in a haze of wandering hands and searching lips. Inwardly, Myka wondered if she should be embarrassed by how often situations like this had happened over the last week, yet she had zero capacity for such thoughts. All she kept coming back to was her inner clock, the days flying off the calendar. They had so little time and she was far from denying that she absolutely could not get enough of Helena like this, and so she chose to ignore embarrassment choosing to believe that they had to make the most of the time they had while they could.

Helena broke into Myka’s inner reverie by grazing her teeth along Myka’s pulse, her lips quick to follow the same path. Feeling Myka shudder beneath her she chuckled, “We’re going to be late, love.”

“Ask me if I care?” Myka sighed roughly.

Helena pulled away from Myka’s skin, sitting up, “As much as I’d _love_ to continue indulging your distraction…we will never hear the end of it if we’re late.”

“You enjoy torturing me, don’t you?”

Helena nipped at Myka’s earlobe with a chuckle, “Maybe just a little bit.” She quickly extracted herself from Myka’s lap, pleased at the groan Myka let out at her sudden absence.

“And you call _me_ wicked…”

Helena flashed a wink over her shoulder, “I’ll seek to make it up to you, I promise.”

Myka sighed with a smile, pushing herself off the bed and linking her fingers with Helena’s, “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Oh darling, I would hope so.”

**

“ _Finally!_ Where have you two been?” Wolly bellowed across the beach, his voice catching in the wind and echoing off the waves.

“Please do not answer that question,” Claudia called. “My young and innocent ears must be protected at all costs.”

“First off,” Steve nudged against Claudia’s shoulder, “young and innocent, my ass. Second off, I also request you don’t answer the question, I simply don’t require that much detail into your lives.”

“That is much appreciated, as those details are indeed our own,” Helena smiled placidly.

“ _Yeah_ , no one is buying that smile for a second, Hel.” Wolly held out two beers for them, “Sit down, drink, _don’t_ talk about your sex life.”

“That comes _after_ the drinking,” Kelly teased, coming up behind Myka and wrapping her arms around Myka’s waist with a playful, semi-raucous squeeze. She whispered into Myka’s ear, “I brought the tequila.”

“Of course you did, but trust me…it’s not needed.” Myka was thankful that her blush was not readily evident by the meager light of the flashlights that had been pushed upright into the sand creating a beaming ring of light around their gathering.

Kelly chuckled, “Oh, but it could make things so fun.” 

“Hangovers are _not_ fun.”

“Yeah, but everything _leading up_ to the hangover is pretty incredible.”

Myka rolled her eyes at the way Kelly waggled her eyebrows towards Helena’s back, “I’m ignoring you.”

“Tell me I’m wrong and you can ignore me all you want.”

Myka felt her blush chase down her neck and into her chest, “You’re not wrong.”

Kelly’s laughter resounded in Myka’s ears, “I will demand details later, _after_ I’ve plied you with tequila.”

“And you’re plying my girlfriend with tequila, why?” Helena asked, sidling up to Myka and slipping an arm around her waist, tugging her away from Kelly playfully. “I hear you’re dangerous around tequila, darling.”

“I have no idea who gave you that idea,” Myka smirked.

Kelly’s eyes tracked between the two of them, the dancing flirtation in their eyes. She sighed, mumbling a few choice words in Spanish under her breath, whispering to Myka as she moved back towards the group, “Yeah, nevermind, you don’t need the tequila.”

**

As had been the case every time Helena was introduced to one of the group’s summer traditions, she marveled at the depths to which they all went to make the most of each occasion. She had left her house expecting maybe an hour or so of swimming, a little talking and a quiet retreat back to their respective houses so they could each get _some_ sleep before work in the morning. When they got to the beach, she was astounded to find that between all of their flashlights, they had doused the beach in an ethereal glow, blankets were scattered all along the shore, accompanied by a never-ending amount of food and far more beer than she ever imagined them drinking. Pete was reclined back on a blanket quietly strumming a guitar along to the music that was pouring out of the portable speakers Claudia had set up. 

Myka caught the marveled look on her face and nudged her shoulder, “I told you…sleep be damned.”

“You all do nothing by halves, do you?”

“Rarely.”

They ate, they drank far too much, and yet again, Pete pulled his baseball hat off his head and insisted on another round of far too many questions. Helena spent most of the night contentedly reclined back against Myka’s chest, wondering how on earth she had found herself _here_ , on some Island in the middle of a lake, in the arms of a gorgeous woman, surrounded by people who simply seemed to accept her, love her for who she was with zero expectations. 

Eventually, in the midst of Claudia, Liam, and Pete arguing about a movie that Helena had never heard of, Myka leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You’re deep in thought down there.”

Helena sighed contentedly, shifting back closer to Myka, running her fingertips along the forearm Myka had wrapped around her waist, “Just thinking that all of you are bonkers, and that I’m insanely happy that that is the case.”

Myka’s soft laughter danced into her ears, “We are an acquired taste, but I happen to think we’re pretty damn fun.” Myka placed a kiss to the back of Helena’s head, “So…what do you think about getting in that water with me?”

“Lead the way, darling.”

It wasn’t necessarily _warm_ , but it also was no longer freezing and Helena eventually found that the longer she was in the water, the less she noticed the temperature and more simply enjoyed the _feeling_. She realized that probably had more to do with the tight grip Myka had around her waist, shifting them in some odd kind of underwater dance, than with the water itself, but she didn’t particularly care. She tilted her head back into the water, gazing up at the sky which was crystal clear and dotted with thousands of stars. She let out a deep exhale, “It’s breathtaking.”

“Tell me about it.” 

Myka’s voice did, in fact, sound breathless, but when Helena tilted her head back up to look at her, she realized Myka wasn’t looking at the sky, but rather at her. Goosebumps scattered across her skin that had nothing to do with the water. She shifted forward, kissing Myka slowly, feeling the way that their knees kept knocking together with the gentle movement of the waves. When they parted, Helena found that she wanted nothing more than to tell Myka she loved her, right here, right now, in this moment that felt so other-worldly, so perfect. She cleared her throat roughly, knowing she shouldn’t say it, but unsure if she was capable of stopping herself, “Myka…I…”

As if sensing exactly what was dangling on the tip of her tongue, knowing exactly what those words would do to them, Myka moved and caught Helena’s lips in another quick kiss, resting their foreheads together, “I know…just…trust me…I know.”

They drifted together in the waves for a few moments longer, until Helena’s voice once again broke the silence, “I have to say, this is significantly different from the first time we got in this water together.”

Myka’s mind tugged her away and back to that first bike trip around the Island, those first, delicate moments where she realized that no matter how hard she tried to avoid it, she was falling spectacularly hard. She smiled carefully, “It’s no longer freezing, so the fact that I’m not numb is highly appreciated.”

Helena chuckled, shifting so that she could wrap her legs around Myka’s waist, balancing in the water with nothing but the waves and Myka’s arms to keep her upright, “I was more referencing _us_ …but, yes, the lack of the threat of frostbite is lovely.”

“I was terrified for so much of that day…terrified because you were _holding my hand_.”

Helena smiled warmly, but with a hint of playfulness, squeezing her legs a bit around Myka’s waist, “You’re in a much more compromised position now, Myka Bering. How is this faring compared to our oh so innocent hand-holding.”

“Oh, you still terrify me. No question.”

“Whatever shall we do about that?”

Myka sighed, warmth spreading from her stomach and out into her bloodstream, leaving her feeling light-headed and off-kilter. She tightened her hold around Helena’s waist, “Let’s just float here for a little bit longer.”

“I could think of no better suggestion, love.”

The waves continued to gently lap over their shoulders, the soft music from the shore occasionally catching the wind and carrying into their ears. They didn’t say anything more, just floated together, occasionally dropping kisses to lips and bare shoulders, foreheads and the water-beaded sides of necks, letting the starlight dance around them, shining against the water in a never-ending symphony of light. Helena left a kiss to Myka’s temple and at the soft exhalation of Myka’s breath at the movement, at how happy she sounded, Helena wondered how on earth she was ever going to bring herself to leave.

**

“So…this is happening, huh?” Pete had shifted closer to Myka on one of the blankets, while Helena was on the other side of the group, locked in conversation with Claudia and Wolly.

Myka hung her head, “Pete, please don’t start.” She hated to admit that she had been avoiding Pete ever since things had changed between her and Helena, but she was simply uninterested in a _debate_ , some long winded conversation that would most likely devolve into a fight about how stupid he thought she was being, about how much he thought this was a bad idea, about how he thought _Helena_ was a bad idea. She hadn’t harbored any delusion that he didn’t know about them, that somehow them showing up together tonight would come as some big shock. She had told Kelly when they’d met for coffee earlier in the week and knew with certainty that she would have told Pete immediately, but she had done everything she could to avoid _this exact conversation_ for as long as possible.

Pete sighed, palm rubbing against the back of his neck and Myka wondered if, somehow, Pete was actually _nervous_ , “No…Mykes, I’m not. I promise.” He watched as Myka’s eyes traveled to where Helena was glancing at them over her shoulder, watched as an unconscious smile pulled at Myka’s mouth. He chuckled softly, “If you could see how happy you look right now…like crazy, ridiculously happy. Even I am not stupid enough to argue with that.”

Myka shot him an incredulous look, her voice dripping sarcasm, “Really?” 

“Really.” Pete licked his lips, trying to find the right words, which Myka found impressive since Pete usually just blurted out whatever it was he was thinking regardless of the consequences. He sucked in a deep breath, “Mykes, honestly, I just want you to be happy.”

“She makes me happy.” Myka was unequivocal, unwilling to hedge her answer to appease any ounce of Pete’s concerns.

Pete wrapped a hand around Myka’s shoulder with a squeeze, “Well then, that’s all that matters.”

Myka squinted her eyes at him in apparent shock, “And that’s it? You don’t have anything else to say?”

A small embarrassed look of shame fell across Pete’s face, “No, Myka. I have nothing else to say, I promise. If you’re happy, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.”

At that moment, Helena sank back down onto the blanket next to Myka, a playful grin on her face. She took a swift pull from Myka’s beer and shot Pete a teasing smile, “So, Pete…talk to me about Nancy Wheeler.”

Glee immediately danced into Pete’s eyes, “Seriously?” He looked at Myka, “You _finally_ started watching!”

“We did,” Myka smirked.

“Oh man, H.G., we _have_ to talk.”

Before Myka could even process what was happening, Helena and Pete were trapped in a wild and winding conversation about each and every detail they had both noticed in each episode, both of them expounding on Nancy’s virtues, while swapping theories about Eleven and her Eggo obsession. Myka shook her head with a smile, wondering if eventually Pete would _actually_ come around to the idea of them being together so that she could stop dancing around him and get back to feeling like their friendship was on solid ground once again. 

It was a happiness she couldn’t quite process, this moment of having everyone she loved spread around her, this moment of having the woman she loved sprawled across her lap, deep in conversation with her best friend. She had no idea how to handle this kind of happiness. As she reached a hand down to card through Helena’s hair, Helena turned and graced her with a devastating smile, causing a cascade of joy to explode in her chest. It was such a small thing, but it felt like _everything_. As Helena turned back to her conversation with Pete, an unexpected shot of cold air raced through the breeze. It was gone in a moment, replaced once again by the steady warmth of the summer night air, but it was enough…enough to remind Myka that even though in these moments when summer felt like it was eternal…it couldn’t last forever.


	10. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang celebrates the Fourth of July (with only a modicum of complaint from the British contingent) and then...inevitably...Myka's parents arrive, along with all the complication that they bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this chapter is ridiculously long, for which I apologize, but also say that I hope it's fair compensation for how long of a wait it's been. I swear that this will not be as long as Records...even if the chapters just keep getting longer...
> 
> I hope everyone is having a safe and wonderful start to PRIDE. Be happy, be you--you're loved :)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Thanks to @MuddyPuppy for the beta and dealing with my 'oh God, do I suck?' moments)

“Can I just say that I feel as though I should be objecting to today’s activities on principle?” Helena called out from the kitchen to where Myka was buried head first in her laptop in Helena’s living room.

Myka smirked, shaking her head, “You can _say_ it all you want, I’m not sure that’s going to get you out of said activities.”

“Still, it’s the principle of the thing.”

Myka chuckled, idly letting her hand fall to rub Trailer’s stomach where he was sprawled across her feet, exhausted from their earlier hike. Eventually, Myka stood, moving towards the kitchen where she shuffled a few things around on the island so she could hop up onto it next to where Helena was adamantly focused on rolling out a pie crust. Myka snatched a few apple slices which were coated in cinnamon and sugar out of a bowl next to her, “Ok, let’s hear these principles.”

“You’re eating my apples,” Helena stated evenly, though Myka could detect the amusement that was skating below the surface.

“Somehow, you have yet to reconcile yourself to the fact that if you’re going to insist that I eat whatever dessert you put in front of me, you’re going to have to deal with the fact that I will at some point steal some of your ingredients.”

“I don’t recall that being part of the deal.”

“ _I_ don’t recall signing on to a sugar enforced summer; we’re both making sacrifices,” Myka teased, popping another slice of apple into her mouth.

Helena rolled her eyes, leaning over to slip a kiss against Myka’s mouth which was upturned in a playful grin, “Yes, wicked one, having a girlfriend that bakes _incessantly_ for you is _such_ a sacrifice.”

Myka sighed with a mockingly dramatic air, “I know. It’s a never-ending trial, putting up with you and all this sugar. I keep finding flour in odd corners of my kitchen, I never go hungry, you look adorable in your apron. You make my life a struggle, Helena Wells.”

A smile which she couldn’t quite contain pulled at the corners of Helena’s mouth. She shot a sidelong glance at Myka, “You’re sassy today.”

Myka grinned triumphantly, her legs swinging back and forth off the edge of the island, “It’s a _holiday_ , I’m in a good mood.”

“A _holiday_ ,” Helena groaned playfully, “more like a travesty.”

“Ah and so we return to your _principles_.”

“Yes, my principles.” 

Myka watched as Helena forced her rolling pin against the gentle waves of dough in front of her, the way that her wrists flexed with the movement, the way the tendons in her hands tensed and released with the changes in pressure. It was entrancing, watching Helena bake, the precision, the grace that she put into it at every turn. She watched as the rolling pin shifted in Helena’s hands, her palms applying more pressure than even Myka, with her scant baking knowledge, thought was necessary. She nudged a knee against Helena’s hip, “You’re taking your _principles_ out on that pie dough.”

“I’m making an _apple pie_.”

“And you have some vast grudge against apple pies?”

“ _No_ , I quite love apples actually. I have a grudge against making an apple pie _today_.”

Myka smirked, “No apple pies on Mondays, huh?”

Helena shot Myka an incredulous look, continuing her back and forth movement over the pie dough, “It is an apple pie on _July fourth_.”

“It’s tradition.”

“I’m British.”

“You live in America.”

“Be that as it may, it’s still the…”

“Principle of the thing, yeah, you’ve mentioned,” Myka teased. Seeing the continued look of annoyance that was playing at the edges of Helena’s face, Myka slipped off the counter and went to stand behind her, arms coming up around her waist, Myka’s thumbs toyed at the hem of her shirt, rubbing tiny circles into the dip of her hips. She placed a kiss to the side of Helena’s neck, “Ya know…you could… _possibly_ ,” she shifted, kissing the other side of Helena’s neck, “simply see this…as a day off.” She brushed Helena’s hair off the back of her neck, placing another delicate kiss there, “A much needed day off…with your girlfriend.”

Helena let out a small noise that _almost_ sounded like a whine as she tipped her head back against Myka’s shoulder, “You’re trying to placate me…”

“ _No…_ ” Myka flexed her fingers around Helena’s hips with just enough force to cause Helena’s muscles to jerk in response, “I’m trying to distract you.”

“The better description is that you’re attempting to lull me into acquiescence to this _holiday_ with your wiles.”

“Oh I like that…it sounds so very… _British_ ,” Myka smirked, nudging Helena’s head so she could run a line of kisses up and down her neck.

“However could you _possibly_ enjoy something _British_ on a day like today?” Despite the teasing in Helena’s voice, Myka could sense her growing breathlessness.

“What can I say, my patriotism grows weak in the face of gorgeous women and their accents.”

“Does that mean I can stop baking this pie and take you upstairs?” Helena leaned back, pressing herself fully against Myka, curling a hand behind her to loop around Myka’s neck to encourage her to continue doing the _entirely distracting_ things she was doing with her lips.

Myka smiled against Helena’s neck, “Everyone would be so _disappointed_ if we just failed to show up. Plus…” she nipped her teeth at Helena’s pulse, “it isn’t the Fourth of July without apple pie. We’d ruin the whole holiday.”

“Oh and we couldn’t possibly have that.”

“No, we couldn’t.”

Helena let out a shaky sigh, her mind now completely fogged over with desire, all of her attention focused on the movement of Myka’s lips, “This does…this does have to bake for quite a while once it’s ready.”

“Well that would just give us all sorts of time…” Myka’s breath skated across the back of Helena’s neck eliciting an immediate cascade of goosebumps all over Helena’s skin.

Immediately, Helena shifted, drew Myka’s hands away from her body, breaking all contact between them. She pointed an adamant finger towards the living room, “You and your wandering hands over there so I can finish this.”

Myka chuckled, “So forceful. You’d almost think you had something on your mind other than that pie you’re baking.”

“You are maddening. _Sexy and maddening_.”

“Maybe…” Myka moved around to the other side of the island, leaning over it with a teasing glint in her eye as she stole another apple slice from the bowl. She shot Helena a quick wink, “Trust me though, Nerd, by the end of the day…you’re going to _adore_ this holiday.” With a boldness she didn’t even know she possessed she started walking backwards towards the stairs, carefully drawing her shirt up and over her head, tossing it back towards the kitchen, “Just a little motivation…I’ll be upstairs.” 

Even as her feet hit the stairs with a decent amount of force, Myka was still able to hear Helena’s groan of frustration and another, more forceful slam of the rolling pin against the counter.

**

“Alright…well…” Helena’s chest heaved in an attempt to catch her breath, “if this is how we celebrate the Fourth of July from now on…long live independence.”

Myka stifled her laughter against Helena’s stomach where she was reclined, most of her torso still comfortably fit between Helena’s thighs, “I’m not sure what that says about your principles…” Inwardly, Myka’s head was spinning with the words Helena had spoken, _from now on_ , a clear indication of a thought-out future, where they had holiday traditions and plans, where they looked back and said, “Remember our _first_ Fourth of July.” She willed the thought away, she didn’t want to dwell on the future. That was slowly becoming her mantra as the days trickled away into the long, sweltering dog days of an island summer; there was no point in dwelling on the future if it meant it took her away from appreciating the present, and her current present was so much more enticing to dwell upon. 

Helena traced her fingers along Myka’s forehead, pushing Myka’s curls back and behind her ears, “Principles are _highly overrated_ …at least when they come up against you looking utterly devastating in my bed.”

Despite her current position, despite her own flirtations, Myka felt her ears grow hot, certain that they were pinking under Helena’s gaze, which she was certain could probably set something on fire it was so intense. She tucked a kiss to Helena’s navel, “We’re having quite a summer, you destroying my sugar avoidance, me destroying your principles…”

“I need to be careful around you, Myka Bering…you might just destroy me utterly.”

The vulnerability that was laced through Helena’s words, lying below the surface of the teasing, left Myka shaken, her stomach flipping at the look on Helena’s face, the look that said she might just welcome the destruction. Myka had known from that very first night that Helena would leave her as a smoking pile of rubble, everything she had known about her life completely turned upside down in the wake of everything that was _Helena Wells_. To know that Helena felt the same way, that somehow, somewhere along the line, Myka had reaped a little bit of destruction of her own, it shocked her, and if she was honest, gave her a tiny sort of thrill. 

Helena drew in a deep breath, shifting her body beneath the sheets and breaking into Myka’s thoughts, “I need to go back downstairs, the pie is ready.”

“Man, there’s a sexy sentence if I ever heard one,” Myka chuckled.

“Oh baking is _immensely_ sexy, darling.” Helena winked at Myka before seeking to extract herself from the weight of Myka’s body.

Myka groaned with the movement, flopping against the sheets with a sigh, “Leaving me alone…naked in bed…”

Helena rolled her eyes as she pulled her robe on, “So _dramatic_.” Helena leaned down and left a string of kisses to Myka’s spine, “You demanded pie…this is the consequence of such demands.”

“Let it burn.”

“ _Never_.”

Myka rolled over, pulling the sheets with her, “How do you even know it’s ready?”

Helena smiled softly, drawing in another breath, “I can smell the apples.”

“That seems oddly instinctual and cryptic.”

“It is. Like I said, love, baking…it’s sexy _and_ mysterious.” Helena pinched playfully at Myka’s ankle, “You will hate me for saying this, but you need to get ready too. You insisted _everyone_ would be disappointed if we were late, therefore as much as I _adore_ you being naked and in my bed…you require clothes, wicked one.”

“Geez, you get out of bed and those principles just creep back in don’t they?”

Helena smirked, “I’m _British_ , my principles are part of who I am.”

“It’s the Fourth of July! British principles be damned.”

“Oh dear,” Helena chuckled, “You’re going to be a piece of work today, aren’t you?”

Myka shot Helena a teasing smirk over her shoulder, “You love it and you know it.”

Helena’s cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, her smile retreating into a calm kind of peace, “You know I do, darling.”

**

“Everybody take cover! The British are coming!” Pete bellowed across the backyard as Myka and Helena walked in with Wolly, whom they had met on their way to Jane’s.

Wolly lifted his beer in salute to Pete, “That’s right you bloody traitors, we’re here to destroy your fun-loving independence.”

“Lord…” Helena murmured under her breath, drawing a sip from her own beer, which Jane had put in her hand the moment they had walked in.

Wolly slung an arm around Helena’s shoulder, “Oh come on, Hel…it’s a _holiday_. We aren’t at work, _appreciate it_.” 

“So I have been told recently,” Helena murmured. She shot a glance towards where Myka was smirking, “Are they always like this?” 

“Every. Damn. Year.” Myka tucked a kiss to Helena’s ear, “Wolly doesn’t seem to quite share your _principles_.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “It’s a holiday that is celebrated with copious amounts of alcohol and blowing things up, Wolly’s principles are powerless in the face of that.”

“And suddenly you realize why Pete and Wolly get along so well, at least on the blowing things up front.”

“It’s a wonder you are all still in one piece.”

“Be thankful that fireworks are prohibited on the Island except at the Fort…”

“Not a year goes by that I don’t thank God for whoever put that law on the books. My son would have burned this place to the ground years ago,” Jane said as she stepped up behind them on the back deck, enveloping both Myka and Helena in her arms. 

“You raised a menace, Jane,” Myka teased.

Jane shot a sidelong glance towards Helena, whispering as if conspiratorially, “And there isn’t a year that goes by that she doesn’t remind me of that.”

“A year? Try at least once a week,” Myka chuckled.

“You’re the one that continues to hang around with him. I might have raised a menace, but you adopted him as your own.”

Myka sighed dramatically, “That is sadly true.”

Jane turned towards Helena with a wide smile, “Rather than dwell on the chaos that is my son. Helena, I have to tell you, I have some friends who were at the Grand’s celebration yesterday, and they said it was a complete hit. They might have mentioned it was one of the best they can ever remember.”

Myka watched as Helena’s cheeks flushed a bit, despite the proud smile that immediately fell across her face. Helena shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance, “I would say that most of that has to do with the Grand’s party planners, and little to do with Wolly and I…”

“And _I_ would say that humility is highly overrated.” Jane smiled warmly as she wrapped a hand around Helena’s forearm, “They said everything was perfect, the food in particular.”

“With how much time they both put in this week, I can’t imagine it would have been _anything less than_ perfect. I’m also impressed they’re both still standing actually.” Myka tucked a kiss to Helena’s cheek, “And people call _me_ a workaholic.”

Helena sighed slightly, leaning into the arm Myka had around her shoulders, “It _has_ been a long week, but I must say, after yesterday, I think it was well worth it. It _was_ quite a party.”

“My modest nerd,” Myka smirked. She leveled a grin at Jane, “Trust me, I might have snuck in towards the end of the evening and the lawn was still packed. That party was a triumph.”

Jane patted Helena’s arm,“You’re making a name for yourself, dearest. Be careful, people might not let you leave.” Jane’s comment was so casual, so entirely normal that neither Myka nor Helena was certain she realized what she had said. Both of them though were intimately aware of her words, their implication.

At that moment, Liam’s voice rang out over the backyard, “Helena! Get over here and settle something for the two of us.” 

Gratefully, Helena squeezed Myka’s hand and descended onto the lawn, making a beeline towards Liam and Steve, muttering to herself, “Saved by the bell.”

As she walked away, Jane looked at Myka carefully, suddenly deducing by the look on Myka’s face the nerve her words had struck. She palmed her forehead, letting out an exasperated sigh, “Myka, I’m sorry…that was a rather dumb thing to say.”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Myka shook her head quickly, taking a long pull of her beer.

“Dear girl, I have known you since you were born, so don’t even think that you’re convincing me with that half-assed attempt at being _fine_.”

Myka sighed, “We’re just…well, we’re kind of _ignoring_ the whole _leaving_ thing.”

Jane leveled Myka with an incredulous look, “Please tell me that neither of you think that that’s truly the _intelligent_ thing to do?”

“I don’t know if we’d say it’s _intelligent_ , but it’s most certainly _necessary_.” Myka took in the way that Jane continued to stare at her, disbelief and incredulity dripping off of her. Myka chuckled despairingly, “Please don’t look at me like that…you look like my mother.”

“One,” Jane held up a finger to make her point, “ _please_ do not compare me with your mother. _Two_ , for all intents and purposes _I am your mother_ , therefore, this look,” she circled her fingers around her face, “ is entirely warranted.”

“Ok…that is…admittedly true. On both counts. However, I’m really not sure what else there is to do.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jane tapped against her chin as if she was in deep contemplation, “you could talk about her potentially staying, you could talk about how you could split your time, you could talk about how you’d handle long distance, if you’d _want_ long distance.”

“Oh God, I’m going to need more beer,” Myka groaned.

Jane chuckled with a sigh, “Ok, _fine_. For the sake of the holiday, I will let it be. However…”

“Let me guess? We’ll talk about it later?”

“I pester because I love, dearest.”

“Uh huh. I’m leaving now and risking my fate to Pete’s propensity to blow things up.”

**

“That looked like one hell of a lecture you were getting from Mama Lattimer,” Pete bumped against Myka’s shoulder while he continued to flip burgers on the grill.

“She was…inquiring…about Helena and I.”

Pete snorted gracelessly, “That was a pathetic attempt at being polite, Mykes.”

“Did it work?”

“Nope,” Pete said, making a popping noise at the end of the word to emphasize his point. “So what was she harassing you about?”

Myka sighed, slumping slightly against Pete’s shoulder, “Helena and I’s plans for the future, so essentially our _lack of a plan_ for the future.”

Pete let out a low whistle, “She doesn’t pull any punches, my mother. But hey hey hey, if it keeps her from bugging me about when I’m going to pop the question with Kelly, I’ll gladly let you take that bullet for me.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No problem-o, Mykes.”

Myka tipped her head against Pete’s shoulder, mindlessly watching as he continued to monitor their dinner. They didn’t say anything more and for that she was grateful. Grateful that Pete always knew when she just needed to _be_ , grateful that despite his initial misgivings he seemed to be coming around to her and Helena, grateful that he seemed to have gotten all of his own pestering about their relationship out of the way early. She took the chance to idly watch as Helena continued to be deep in conversation with Liam and Steve. It had been a continuing development as the summer wore on, this bond that seemed to have been created between the three of them. More and more, when they were all together, the three of them would end up huddled together talking, Helena no longer lingering by Myka’s side trying to find her footing amongst the group. While part of Myka always enjoyed having Helena right there, she appreciated this more. Watching Helena integrate into this life, _their_ life, developing her own niche within the group. No matter how hard she tried, Myka couldn’t quite fend off the hope that it sprung in her that it was helping Helena find more reasons to _stay_ other than her. She silently wondered, hoped, that if Helena felt she had her own life here beyond Myka that staying would just become a natural next step. She hoped that somehow as each day of the summer went by, Helena was finding Mackinac to be more and more like _home_.

**

“So…how are you?”

Myka was in the kitchen getting everyone pie while also making a valiant attempt at not completely mangling the utter perfection that it was when Helena had pulled it out of the oven triumphantly. Kelly’s voice behind her startled her enough to make the knife jump in her hand, somehow splattering pie filling everywhere. Myka groaned, shooting a small glare in Kelly’s direction, “Ya know, I do generally enjoy having all of my fingers, a little warning the next time.”

Kelly smirked, arching an eyebrow Myka’s way, while sneaking a bit of pie onto her finger, “I’m going to do you a favor and completely bypass the opportunity to say something about why you enjoy having all your fingers and just move on, otherwise I won’t get an answer to my question, and that’s really why I came in here.”

“That,” Myka gestured towards Kelly with the tip of the knife, “is a very good idea on your part.”

“I figured. So, I repeat…how are you?”

Myka shot Kelly a confused look before returning her concentration to the slices of pie in front of her, “Me? I’m fine. Why?”

Kelly chuckled, “Yeah…Pete figured you wouldn’t make this easy.”

“Wait…Pete sent you in here to ask me how I am? I think I’m missing something.”

“Your parents, Mykes.” Pete’s voice piped up from behind them where he had come into the kitchen quietly, idly leaning against the door frame. 

Myka rolled her eyes, “Jesus…can we just… _not?_ ”

Pete pushed off from the door, moving to sit on the counter next to where Myka was remaining adamantly focused on the pie. He reached out and wrapped a hand around her shoulder, “Mykes…come on, we’re serious.”

“I realize…” Myka sighed, finally setting down the knife, her chin slumping against her chest with a defeated sigh, “I realize you’re serious and I appreciate it. I just really don’t want to talk about this tonight.”

“Because you really don’t want to talk about it, or because H.G. might overhear?” Kelly asked pointedly.

Myka roughly pressed two fingers against her forehead willing the pulsing that was building behind her eyes to ebb away, “Maybe a little bit of both?”

“Mykes…”

“What am I supposed to say, Pete?” Myka’s voice broke despite her efforts to try and sound forceful, like she was actually holding it together. 

“My parents are assholes who don’t support the ladies lovin’ ladies thing. Oh and they don’t know that I’m one of those ladies…”

Myka caught Pete’s teasing grin out of the corner of her eye and was powerless to not laugh at his tone, at the very obvious way he was trying to ease her tension. She bit the corner of her lip in an attempt to not allow him to see her amusement and landed a punch against his shoulder, “Bisexual, Lattimer, it’s a word. You can say it.”

Pete held up his hands in defense, but couldn’t contain his smirk, “Hey, hey, hey, I’m a well-informed, respectful _adult_. I just wanted you to laugh, and it worked, so points for the Petester.”

“God…is he like this at home?” Myka asked Kelly playfully.

“Oh no, at home he’s very sophisticated. You’d never recognize him.” Kelly sighed, leaning forward to catch Myka’s eye where she was still pointedly avoiding looking at either of them, “Does H.G. really not know that your parents don’t know?”

Myka shrugged, “There hasn’t really been a great time to bring it up. I mean…she knows they’re coming. She knows that things between us aren’t exactly _great_ , but no, she has no idea that they don’t know. I mean, how exactly do you tell your girlfriend that your parents are conservative jerks who would probably disown me if they knew I was dating a woman?”

“I’m pretty sure Pete just gave you exactly what you _could_ say,” Kelly teased, bumping against Myka’s shoulder.

“I just…I feel…I don’t know…foolish, I guess. I mean, Christ, I’m thirty years old, I don’t give a shit what my parents think, and yet I very much have not told them about this huge part of my life.”

“Yeah, but, c’mon Mykes. Your parents haven’t exactly been in the position to _know_. They’re never around.”

“Look, Myka,” Kelly’s tone had soothed into the one that Myka recognized as the one she used when she was trying to soothe pets’ owners, the tone she used when she was trying to be comforting. “You know both of us support the hell out of you in how you deal with your parents. I just…I hate the idea of you feeling like you have to hide while they’re here. It’s not fucking fair, to you or to H.G.”

“But…we also don’t want you to have to deal with the drama that we both know would come if they found out.”

“Which pretty much brings me back around to my original question…how are you?”

Myka sighed roughly, “For tonight, I’m trying to just ignore that next week is even happening. That’s how I am.”

Pete watched as Myka’s forehead drew together in a tight grimace, her lips disappearing into a thin line. It was a look he had come to associate with Myka’s parents and Myka’s parents alone. It was the look she got whenever they were brought up, whenever they were around, whenever they did whatever latest thing they had done to make Myka’s life a living hell. He hated that look, almost as much as he hated the Berings. He palmed the back of his neck, knowing exactly how Myka would respond to what he was going to say, “You could ask them not to come.”

Myka leveled Pete with an ardent, almost annoyed glare, “Pete, you know that’s not possible.”

Pete sighed, “Mykes…”

“No, Pete,” Myka cradled her forehead in her palm, “You know I promised Pap.”

“I know…”

“I…I promised him,” Myka felt her throat grow thick with every word she tried to utter, “I promised him I’d try. That I’d never stop trying.”

“Pap would also have never wanted you to have to hide your girlfriend away, pretend you aren’t in love with someone just to make your parents happy.”

“I know that too.”

Pete hopped down from the counter, pulling Myka into a tight hug and shooting Kelly a concerned look over Myka’s shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, “You know I’d never tell you that you have to tell them. What do I _always_ tell you when it comes to the parents’ Bering?”

Myka stifled a chuckle against Pete’s shoulder, “Fuck ‘em.”

“ _Exactly_. Fuck them. However…you do have to tell H.G., Mykes.”

“I know…I will…just…just not tonight.”

“Not tonight. For tonight, let’s just enjoy the fireworks.” Pete released Myka, holding her at arm’s length and giving her a cheesy grin, “ _Freedom, baby!_ ”

“Oh boy…” Myka sighed, despite the smile that had crept back onto her face.

“He’s right, Myka.” Kelly looped an arm through Myka’s, “For tonight… _freedom, baby._ ”

Myka laughed lightly, picking up two plates of pie, rolling her eyes, “Freedom, baby…freedom and apple pie.” Myka emerged out of the kitchen and onto the back porch only to have Helena immediately catch her gaze from where she was standing on the opposite end of the lawn. Helena’s smile was dazzling, devastating. She shot Myka a wink before returning her attention briefly to Liam. Myka couldn’t help but stop and stare for just a few more minutes at how insanely beautiful Helena looked, how peaceful everything around them was…for tonight. She swallowed thickly, for tonight…she’d take what she could get before the chaos descended.

**

Later that night as fireworks exploded over both sides of the Mackinac Bridge, cascading the sky in light, reflecting off of the water in brilliant shades of reds, blues, and whites, they all sat huddled on the beach, sprawled out on blankets, beers dangling between fingers, arms and legs tangled amongst them. Myka reflected that this was always one of the few times when they were all together and things were _quiet_. None of them were talking, no one was singing obnoxiously off key, there was no laughter, no shouting, just the peaceful quiet of each of them letting out tiny exhales marveling at the beauty erupting in the night sky. Unconsciously, she pulled Helena back tighter against her chest, wanting to savor this moment, in all of its delicate perfection. 

At the movement, Helena tilted her head back with a soft smile, leaving a soft kiss to Myka’s slightly parted lips, “Happy Fourth of July, love.”

Myka smirked, “Did you actually just say that?”

“If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it without question.”

As Helena was shifting to turn her head back towards the sky, Myka caught her lips in another swift kiss, “Happy Fourth, Nerd.”

Once Helena had returned her attention to the fireworks, Pete caught Myka’s eye, giving her a quick wink, a kind, understanding sort of smile. He leaned in closer and whispered, “I told ya, _freedom, baby._ ”

Myka chuckled, combing her fingers through Helena’s hair, feeling the strands dance against her skin. She gave Pete a shy smile, “Absolutely, Pete. _Freedom, baby_.”

Pete shifted over and left a kiss to Myka’s temple, “Love ya, Mykes.”

“Right back at ya, Lattimer.”

Quiet descended around them once again, until Helena tilted her head back again, “What was that about?”

Myka kissed her forehead lightly, “I’ll tell you later. Let’s just enjoy the fireworks.”

Helena smiled contentedly, linking their fingers across her stomach. Myka felt her let out a deep breath, one that seemed utterly serene, completely comfortable, and she wondered how on earth she was ever going to get the courage to disturb the peace that had settled over them. She shook her head, seeking to chase the thoughts away. She just wanted to enjoy the fireworks, the quiet, the remarkable woman whom she did in fact _love_ , and forget that anything else in the world existed.

**

By the end of the week, Myka’s nerves over her parents’ arrival were beginning to be too apparent to ignore. She had tried her best to keep everything at bay, to not let it impact her and Helena before they’d even arrived. She knew they would lose time once her parents got to the Island and she desperately didn’t want their undue influence to creep in and affect them before they’d even stepped foot on shore. However, as each day crept by, as each day meant a little more preparation for their arrival, her nerves became less and less capable of being silenced, more readily apparent with each passing moment.

Helena had tried desperately to ignore the shift in Myka’s mood. She knew it had everything to do with her parents, knew it had nothing to do with her, with _them_. She tried to convince herself that maybe it wasn’t her place, they’d barely been together for a month, it didn’t matter that they were practically living together, it didn’t matter that Helena was certain they were both head over heels, none of that meant she had the right to push Myka to talk about something that she didn’t want to. It most certainly didn’t mean that she had a right to demand an explanation, to force a conversation on Myka that she wasn’t ready for. Yet, by Friday night, when Myka’s parents were slated to arrive in less than forty-eight hours, Helena couldn’t quite find it in herself to not at least _ask_. 

Myka had been far beyond distracted that night. They’d both gotten off of work unexpectedly early, and so Myka had suggested having a fire at her place, doing something simple for dinner, and just enjoying the night for what it was, a rare chance to have more than a few scant hours together at the end of the day. Yet, as the night had waned on, Myka had gotten progressively quieter, fidgeting more, constantly moving around as if trying to distract herself; on more than one occasion seeming to open her mouth to say something only to go quiet again and act as though it hadn’t happened.

Finally, when Myka had stood up and adjusted the fire for at least the tenth time in an hour, Helena couldn’t take it anymore. As Myka moved next to her, ready to sit back down on her own lounge chair, Helena reached a hand out to wrap around her wrist, pulling her down to sit next to her. She did her best to give her an easy smile, one that didn’t scream of concern. She ran her fingertips along the inside of Myka’s forearm, far too aware of how much Myka was avoiding eye contact. Sighing quietly, she decided to just push forward, “Can I state the obvious in that you seem terribly distracted?”

The effect was immediate. Myka’s head hung slightly, her shoulders slumping forward in utter defeat, as though she was shouldering the weight of the world. When she finally spoke, Helena barely recognized her voice, hollow and broken as it was, “I’m sorry. I just…I have a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Myka didn’t know how to _say it_. She didn’t know how to explain this to Helena, to give voice to all the shit her parents had put her through, beyond what Helena already knew. She had no idea how to tell Helena, Helena who was so just unabashedly _herself_ , unashamed and proud, that she had kept this vital part of herself hidden from her parents. How could she look at her girlfriend, her girlfriend that she had so little time with and tell her that come Sunday, things would be different because she didn’t have any desire whatsoever to let her parents into this part of her life? 

Helena reached up, tucking Myka’s curls behind her ear, brushing her thumb against Myka’s cheekbone, “You don’t have to apologize. If, for tonight, what you need is for us to sit in the quiet and just breathe a little bit we can do that. I’m just saying…even though it is a horrendous cliché, you can talk to me about anything you need to, Myka.”

“I know, and honestly? I _need_ to talk to you about this…I just…”

“Myka,” Helena cut across her, her own insecurity seeping into the edges of her words, “I know we haven’t been together that long, you don’t have to…”

“No.” Myka’s eyes flared with a surge of heat and intensity that left Helena slightly winded. Seeing the look of worry that flashed across Helena’s face, Myka squeezed her hand in a tiny attempt at reassurance, “This has nothing to do with that. I mean, yeah, it’s been like a month, but trust me, I’ve told you things that I haven’t told people I’ve known for _years_. This…this isn’t about us. This is completely and entirely my own shit, shit that I just have no idea how to deal with.”

“I know you’re worried about your parents coming. Honestly, with what you’ve told me about them, I can’t say that I blame you.”

Myka let out a hollow attempt at laugh, “Yeah…that’s a bit of an understatement, but this…my distraction and everything…it goes a bit beyond all of that.” Myka shifted slightly so she could draw her leg up underneath her, firmly settling herself against Helena’s hip. She took a deep breath, figuring she might as well just start talking, “This…my parents coming, it’s more than just the bad history we have, it’s more than our stupid broken relationship, if that’s even what you could call it. I mean, yeah, every year I dread them coming, because they’re always in a bad mood and something always goes wrong, and inevitably there’s some sort of argument, but at this point, that’s all stuff I’m sort of used to.”

“I think I’m almost afraid to ask what else there could be, seeing as that seems like _plenty_ to be nervous about.”

“It’s just…” Myka’s eyes once again wandered away from Helena’s face, the intensity of Helena’s gaze, her own retreating to stare at her fidgeting fingers. She sighed, “It’s because of how catastrophically shitty our relationship is that I’ve pretty much stopped telling them anything significant about my life, including the fact that I’m bisexual.”

Helena’s eyes widened slightly at the admission. If she was being honest, this wasn’t exactly what she had expected Myka to say, but once she thought about it, she realized maybe she should have. She squeezed Myka’s knee, “So they have no idea?”

“Nope, and because they are insanely conservative and entirely self-absorbed they would never imagine in a hundred years that such a thing would be possible. Their daughter with a _woman_ , God forbid. God forbid their perfect image of their perfect fucking life get tainted with such a thing.”

Helena’s stomach clenched uncomfortably at the pain that was laced through Myka’s words. She could tell that Myka was trying to make a good show at sounding sarcastic, like she didn’t care what her parents thought, yet Helena could hear it, could see just how desperately this clung to Myka, how much it clearly tore at her. Suddenly, Helena realized with perfect clarity just _why_ Myka had been hesitant to tell her this, understood the implication of what this meant for _them_ once her parents arrived. The thought careened into her mind with the force of a train wreck; for the next week, they couldn’t be like _this_ , they would have to be friends, nothing more, at least in front of her parents. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell Myka that she understood, but before she could say anything, words were suddenly spilling out of Myka’s mouth mixed with incredulous laughter.

“They’re the only people in my life that don’t know. I’ve been out for _years_ , I mean, Christ, I told Pete when we were like sixteen, and of course, Pete being Pete, he made some really lame joke and then told me in the next breath that he loved me. After I told him, it was like the words just came easily. I told Jane, because I wanted her to know, because to me, she was _mom_. I mean, hell, I told Pap and Gram, who let’s face it, probably seemed like they would be the people who would react poorly, just because they were older, but they were…they were amazing. They were perfect actually. They supported me so completely and totally, they got that it mattered, and that it was a _huge_ thing to tell them, but they never acted like it was anything other than just a part of _who I was_ and who I was was their granddaughter whom they loved.”

Helena was hesitant to break in, “Did they know you didn’t tell your parents?”

“Oh yeah, and believe me, they supported that decision too. Pap always said he had no idea how his son ended up being so ridiculously conservative and close-minded, but he would be damned if he let him treat me like shit. They always trusted that I knew what was best in that situation, and so they got it when I said I wanted to keep them out of this part of my life.”

“I so desperately wish I had gotten the opportunity to know them…”

Tears rimmed Myka’s eyes as she gave Helena a devastating smile, “I do too, so much. They would have _adored_ you.”

Silence fell around them, hanging heavy despite the weight that had been lifted with Myka’s sharing what had been tying her up in knots. Helena took a deep breath, desperately searching for the right words for this moment, hoping that Myka realized she was telling her the _truth_ and not just what she thought Myka needed to hear. She cleared her throat roughly, “Myka…I will do whatever you need me to next week. You don’t need to worry that I’m going to be upset or throw some fit because you need things to be a bit different while they’re here. I will, of course, miss you, miss _this_ , but believe me when I say, _I get it_.”

The tears she had been trying to hold back finally spilled down Myka’s cheeks, “I need you to know that this is _not_ about you, about us. I don’t want you thinking that I’m ashamed, that I’m hiding you away.”

“Love… _no_. Never in a million years could I think such a thing.” Helena sighed sadly at Myka’s continued hesitation to meet her eye. She reached forward and linked their hands with a small squeeze, “Darling, please look at me.” Carefully, slowly, Myka finally let her gaze fall back towards Helena. Helena smiled softly, “You are amazing, and I am so entirely crazy about you, and I’m telling you…I’m here for this, however this needs to be for the week. Trust me.”

Any and all words she tried to find lodged in Myka’s throat, leaving her with only one option. She surged forward, catching Helena’s lips in a fevered kiss, willing every movement to just _say_ everything she didn’t have proper words for at the moment. 

Helena broke away slightly with a slight smile, her hand tucked under Myka’s jaw, “That cliff we’re on?”

“Yeah?” Myka’s voice trembled with the question.

Helena continued to smile almost right against Myka’s own smile, “I just wanted to tell you that the view from the bottom is spectacular.”

Myka’s heart fluttered in her chest, followed by a hard, definitive _thump_ , as it always did when Helena did this, told her she loved her without actually saying it. It’d become an unspoken agreement between them, that this was how they’d do it, say it without actually _saying it_ , in some vain attempt at keeping things from getting too complicated. She chuckled softly, “It’s good to know that I didn’t jump down here all by myself.”

“Never, love. Always together.”

Myka smiled against Helena’s lips, mumbling before she continued kissing her, “Always.”

**

After so many years of hearing about them, everyone had long since stopped trying to ignore Pete’s _vibes_. On the one hand, ignoring _anything_ with Pete just made him more insistent on your paying attention, and on the other hand, after one too many of them coming true or at least being eerily accurate, they all figured that it was safer to give them a decent amount of credence. They didn’t happen all that often, but when they did, Pete usually made a point of being highly _vocal_ about them. 

However, as his stomach began roiling when the incoming ferry moved into the marina at the same time that a significant cloud front doused the entire Main Street area in grey, as he felt Myka’s shoulders tense and stiffen next to him, he figured that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a good time to mention his vibe. Myka was worried enough, stressed enough that he didn’t want to add to it. He tried to tell himself that this kind of vibe was to be expected. Whenever Myka’s parents came to the Island it was usually a totally shit week; Myka was in a bad mood, the Berings made everyone tense, their usual group dinners and get togethers carried a bit more weight because no one truly felt like they could be themselves with them around, and everything just felt _off_. So, Pete _tried_ to convince himself that this was just _that kind of vibe_. Yet, the way his stomach kept clenching and unclenching, the knot that was forming directly between his shoulder blades, he knew this was _different_. Something about this visit was going to go straight to hell and he had a really bad feeling that he knew _exactly_ what it was. There was no avoiding the _H.G. and Myka issue_. 

Pete _never_ would have told Myka that she needed to tell her parents about H.G. Personally, he wanted nothing to do with seeing that reaction, because he could envision it all too well. He had known Myka’s parents long enough to know that they would make her life a living hell if she was _that_ honest with them. There was no scenario in which he wanted to see Myka get hurt like that, he’d seen her burned too many times at the hands of her parents, and so he knew that the silence kept her happy, and that was all that mattered to him. Yet he also knew that a week of having to _hide_ , a week of Myka not truly being able to be with H.G., well that wasn’t going to be good either. It was a no-win situation, and he just hoped that they all made it through the week in one piece.

“ _God_ …here we go,” Myka muttered under her breath as the ferry pulled into the jetty with a resounding blast of its horn and a soft bump against the dock.

Pete’s stomach churned heavily again. He let out a weighted sigh and slipped his hand into Myka’s, giving it a gentle squeeze, “You’ve got this, Mykes.”

“Yeah…it doesn’t quite feel like I do. I feel like hell.” Myka paused, considering the line of people flowing off the ferry, “Scratch that, I feel like I’m _in_ hell.”

“Say it with me. One more time before they descend.”

Myka inhaled and exhaled sharply, closing her eyes, “Fuck ‘em.”

Pete leaned over and pressed a kiss to Myka’s temple, “Exactly. Fuck ‘em.”

“Thank you for being here.”

Myka squeezed Pete’s hand so tightly he could feel her nails digging into the top of his hand. He held on just as tightly, knowing Myka needed that assurance, trying to give her whatever he could to let her know he was _there_. He bumped her shoulder playfully, “There is nowhere else I would be. You know that.”

It was true. Every year, without fail, Pete was always here for this. Even if it meant he had to take off work, he did, because he never wanted Myka to have to deal with these first few opening moments alone, because even at the beginning there was always _something_ , something wrong that absolutely _had_ to be commented on. He tried his best to be a buffer, to take some of the direct heat and attention off of Myka, for as long as he possibly could. It’d been like that since they were little, because even as a kid Pete was acutely aware that Myka’s parents weren’t really, well, _parents_. So for as long as he could remember he had done everything he could to make sure that Myka felt like she had a family. He knew he didn’t need to, she had had Pap and Gram and her sister, but he wanted her to have _more_ , because in Pete’s eyes, Myka deserved absolutely _everything_ , and just because her parents didn’t share that opinion, didn’t mean it wasn’t true. 

“And there they are…” Myka’s words left her mouth heavy with resignation, her fate sealed as she watched her parents walk down the gangway from the ferry, frustration already seeming to be dripping off of them. She sighed roughly, this was happening, as it always did every summer, and her internal clock started ticking down the moments until they left.

Walking along the dock, Warren and Jeannie Bering looked like they were pulling the weight of the entire world behind them, rather than their small, simple suitcases. Myka rolled her eyes as she could already see the look of disgust on her dad’s face at the sheer amount of people around him, taking exaggerated steps around groups of people and scoffing slightly. At least, Myka thought, her mother looked _exactly_ as she expected her to look, utterly annoyed at having had to endure the ferry trip across the lake. It didn’t matter that it was a short trip, it didn’t matter that the lakes were blissfully calm today, it never mattered.

As they approached, Myka tried her best to put on as much of a smile as she could muster. She knew her parents would never have been paying enough attention to notice how fake it was, knew she could be standing there scowling and they probably wouldn’t notice, but for the sake of the promise she had made Pap all those years ago, in the name of _trying_ , she smiled. 

Pete gave her hand a small squeeze before releasing it so that they both could hold up their hands in small waves of acknowledgment. Myka stepped up to her mom, hand reaching out to take her suitcase from her, “Hi Mom.” To her own ears her voice sounded strained, too high-pitched to be anything but a false front.

Jeannie didn’t even acknowledge the greeting, simply handed her suitcase over to Myka, her hands immediately fiddling with her hair, patting at her curls, muttering, “I swear…you’d think someone would figure out a better way to get over here. These ferries…they’re utter chaos. The people, _the wind…_ ”

“Same as always,” Pete muttered under his breath so only Myka could hear, earning him a small, amused smile from her. He extended a hand to Warren, with what he hoped seemed like a cheery smile, “Mr. Bering, good to see you.”

Warren’s eyes crinkled with a rarely seen smile as he chuckled and grasped Pete’s hand enthusiastically, “Pete, how many times do I have to tell you…call me _Warren_.”

“ _Same as always_ ,” Myka mumbled under the guise of clearing her throat.

Pete grimaced slightly, but forced it to shift into a kind of sheepish smile, “One of these years, _Mr. Bering_ , maybe I’ll get the message.” It was a lie, a bold-faced lie that Pete told every year. He hated to admit it, hated to believe it despite the evidence, but Myka’s parents adored him. He knew it. She knew it. They made no effort at hiding it. All the attention and care they should have paid to Myka, for some reason they gave to Pete in some small way. Pete refused categorically to give it any acknowledgement. He didn’t _want_ them to like him, not with how he felt about them. So, he kept up certain barriers, no emotional attachments, no chummy affection; he kept his distance with them as best he could, right down to refusing to call them by their first names. He wanted them to know, without question, that their relationship was a _formality_. He tolerated them, because he loved Myka, that was all.

Next to him, Jeannie let out a light laugh, tapping a hand against his upper arm, “Oh Pete, you and your modesty.” 

He fought back the urge to roll his eyes as he allowed Jeannie to pull him in for what he made sure was the quickest hug known to man. They hadn’t even hugged Myka, and yet here they were hugging him. Same as always. He released Jeannie and motioned to the golf clubs that Warren had on his shoulder, “Should be a good week for golf.”

Warren’s face darkened slightly, “Lugging them up here was probably a fool’s errand. It always ends up raining and they were a pain in the ass to check on the plane.”

“How was your flight?” Myka interjected, trying desperately to steer the conversation away from what was bound to be a laundry list of complaints about all the ways the Island _always_ seemed to screw over her parents when they visited. 

“ _Dreadful_ ,” Jeannie groaned. 

Myka sighed, _why do I even ask_? She shifted the suitcase handle in her hand, and gestured towards the road, “I have a carriage ready, so why don’t we load up your things?” She immediately started moving away from the dock, while behind her she could hear her dad continuing to talk Pete’s ear off, while her mother kept up a constant string of complaints about their flight, about their drive up, about the ferry, about everything. She sought to drown it out as best she could, focusing on the fact that the act of getting her parents up to the house at least brought her some modicum of joy. She had given Claudia the day off so that she could have Tesla and Farnsworth for this particular carriage ride. She figured if she had to deal with her parents, she at least deserved one day to actually drive with her horses.

As she approached the carriage where it was parked by the curb, Tesla and Farnsworth both let out soft whinnies of greeting, shaking their heads in pleasure at her return. She chuckled softly, shifting her mom’s suitcase into the back before moving back to the front of the carriage. She ran a hand down Tesla’s flank, “I was barely gone, you two.” Farnsworth gave a more exaggerated shake of his head as if to indicate that he didn’t agree with Myka’s statement.

“Are those your grandfather’s horses?” Her dad’s voice grated into her ears. She hated that he did that, never called Pap anything other than _your grandfather_ , as if the mere act of calling him dad or Pap even, was a chore.

Myka settled herself onto the driver’s bench, shooting over her shoulder, “Yes, they are.”

“Getting old aren’t they?”

Myka closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe deeply, _do not engage, do not engage_. She forcibly smiled over her shoulder, “Eh, they’re still babies to me and they can still get up the hills ok, so I think they’re alright.”

“You sound just like him, doting on them like they’re your children.” 

Out of anyone else’s mouth, it would have sounded almost _sweet_ , the recognition that Myka took after Pap, that she loved the horses like he did. However, coming from her dad it sounded like an accusation, as though being like Pap was the worst indictment he could throw at her. She didn’t respond, there was no point, she simply glanced over her shoulder to make sure everyone was settled and gave a quick flick of the reins to get them moving. _The sooner I get them to the house, the sooner I can go back to work._

“So, _Pete…_ ”

_Oh God, here we go_ , Myka thought, trying to catch Pete’s eye in the rearview mirror, knowing that his jaw muscles would be clenching at the cloying tone of her mother’s voice.

“ _How’s Kelly?_ I notice she didn’t come with you.”

Pete cleared his throat uncomfortably, “No, she had to work, a couple of Mykes’ horses are a little under the weather so she needed to be at the stables.”

“She works _so hard_ , that girlfriend of yours. _Too hard_.”

Myka rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. It was the same thing every year, her mother would get in her little digs at Kelly that sounded like nothing more than small, polite inquiries, when deep down she was probing to get the answer to her _real_ question. Were Pete and Kelly still together? Her parents made no secret of the fact that they wished Pete and Myka were together, and had wished that since they were little. It didn’t matter that Myka and Pete both found the thought abhorrent. It didn’t matter that they both knew they would have killed each other. Nothing mattered. In the eyes of her parents, Pete was perfect and he was the best thing that could have ever happened to her, if only she’d just _love him_. They somehow had convinced themselves that Pete harbored feelings for Myka that she had spurned, because _of course_ it would be her fault. They once said that if they would have just gotten together, they could have had a life bigger than the Island, as though by simply falling for each other their mutual desire to live their lives _here_ would have utterly disappeared. She had long since ceased to argue with them about it, not even dignifying their questions with responses anymore, but poor Pete…they never stopped prodding him.

“When are you going to propose to that girl, Pete?” Myka could tell her dad was trying to be jovial, joking with Pete in a buddy kind of way, and she knew Pete would see right through it.

“We’ll get there when we get there, but marriage has never really been that important to us.”

“Oh, Pete! Of course you want to get married!” 

“Mom…you’ve been here for all of ten minutes, maybe save the third degree until later in the week.”

“ _Myka_ …there is no third degree.” By simple virtue of the fact that she was no longer addressing Pete, but talking to Myka, Jeannie’s voice had grown colder, hollow and slightly frustrated. “I’m just saying, if they’ve been together this long, they should be married. What does your mother think, Pete?”

Pete couldn’t stop his laughter, “My mom is pretty much just happy as long as we’re happy. For her, she figures she gets to see us as often as she likes, we’re right down the road, and we love each other. Can’t really ask for more than that.”

In the rearview mirror, Pete caught Myka’s eye and gave her a swift wink. It was moments like this that reminded Myka exactly why she adored Pete. It was a shot, _a very polite shot_ , but a shot nonetheless. A way for Pete to say that his mother gave to him what Myka’s parents never gave to her, and that maybe, just maybe they should think about that. Deep down, both Myka and Pete knew it was a fruitless effort, but she simply couldn’t help but love him for trying.

Mindlessly, Myka maneuvered the carriage through town, allowing herself to get lost in the rhythm of driving, choosing to focus on the subtle things she had missed about Tesla and Farnsworth now that she no longer spent the entire summer with this view of them. She let herself drown in the way that whenever they were coming up on a turn, Farnsworth would seem to nod his head towards Tesla as if to say, “We’ve got this,” the way that Tesla always let out soft whinnies of pleasure when she let them speed up a bit; she let them calm her, let them fill her brain with pleasant thoughts and turn her mother’s voice behind her into nothing more than a bothersome drone.

She pulled them to a stop in front of the stables, hopping down swiftly as her mother sighed heavily, “Honestly, Myka you can get back to work once you drop us off.”

Myka rolled her eyes subtly, “I have to pick up Claud, that way she can bring the boys back down here while I help you guys get settled.”

Warren let out a small scoff, “Worried we won’t be able to navigate the house I grew up in?”

Myka bit her tongue so hard she feared it might bleed, silently giving thanks that Pete piped up, clapping Warren on the shoulder, “Come on, Mr. B. You know Mykes just wants to be able to make sure that you guys are comfortable. You just got here, she wouldn’t want to run out on you right away.”

“I’m sure…” Warren mumbled, biting sarcasm lacing through the syllables.

“I’ll be right back,” Myka said, turning her back on the carriage and whispering under her breath, “Maybe not right away, but I’ll sure as hell be out of there as soon as I can.” She pushed through the stable doors calling out, “Claud!”

“Right here, boss!” Claudia bounded out of her office, pointing at the watch on her wrist, “Been waiting since Pete texted me that the ferry docked. Figured you’d want me ready to go as soon as possible.”

Myka smiled with a sigh of relief, wrapping Claudia in a quick hug, “I love you, you know that?”

Claudia chuckled, awkwardly patting Myka on the back, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m _amazing_ , but let’s not keep the parentals waiting, huh?”

“You could just take them up to the house…tell them there was an emergency that needed my attention like right now.”

“Uh uh, nope, no way in hell are you leaving me and Pete alone with your parents.”

“ _Please_.”

Claudia smirked, pushing a hand into the small of Myka’s back, “You sound like you’re five.”

“They make me _feel_ like I’m five.”

“You’re pouting. H.G. would find this wildly unattractive, focus on that.”

Myka groaned, tilting her head back in frustration as she let Claudia push her along, “They make me crazy.”

“Thus why Pete and I are here to run interference. We’ve got you, Myka, but you can’t avoid them the entire week.”

“A spectacularly regrettable fact.”

They emerged out of the stables into the blaring sunshine that was causing Jeannie to hold a hand up to her eyes muttering something under her breath which Myka was certain was some sort of curse at the Island for being inconsiderate enough to have _nice weather_. Warren on the other hand was vigorously holding his phone up towards the sky at various angles, while Pete looked on trying not to laugh.

“Dad, what on earth are you doing?” Myka asked as she and Claudia slid onto the driver’s bench.

“I’m _trying_ to get a damn signal. I need to check in at the store. Jesus…you’d think with how many tourists there are up here they’d get decent service.”

“Some people kind of like that the service is spotty, helps them feel like they’re away from things,” Myka commented evenly.

“Well some of us can’t stop _working_ just because we’re on vacation,” Warren snapped.

“Ok…so, shall we?” Claudia asked, her voice thick with false, bubbly brightness. She nudged Myka’s shoulder and shot her a smile, “Get these boys in motion.”

The rest of the drive to the house was spent in almost complete silence and Myka was slowly becoming convinced that somehow, a mere hour into it, this visit might already be the worst one she had ever had with her parents. She felt tense and annoyed, her nerves bristling at the slightest implication of displeasure from them. She tried to tell herself that they were being unreasonable already, yet if she was being honest, she knew what it was that was grating at her…Helena. She utterly hated that she had to endure the next seven days of this and somehow do it _without_ Helena. Deep down, she simply hoped that they’d all survive in one piece because she was starting to wonder if she might not just explode before the week was up.

They pulled up in front of the house, and while they all got out, Claudia extracted the reins from Myka’s hands. She grabbed Myka’s wrist before Myka climbed out of the carriage, “You going to be ok, boss?”

“Yeah, Claud…just, ya know…if I text you 911 or something…”

“Call with a made up emergency.”

“You’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Myka moved to the back to help her parents with their luggage, and once everything was all out of the carriage she returned to the front to nuzzle kisses to both horses’ noses, “It’s been fun, boys. Be good for Claud.” Farnsworth shook his head as if he was indignant at the implication that they might _not_ be good. Myka chuckled, “Yeah, yeah, you’re _always_ good.” She smiled up at Claud, “They’re all yours.”

“I’ll get ‘em back safe and sound.” She flicked the reins moving the horses into a slow walk, glancing down at Myka, “I’ll see you in a bit?”

Myka nodded, “I’ll be down as soon as humanly possible.”

Her parents were waiting, seemingly impatiently, on the porch for Myka to come open the door and while she bounded up the steps Jeannie idly commented, “Your flowers need watering, Myka.”

“Yeah, I know…it’s been a bit crazy, I forgot last night that I needed to.” Into her brain ricocheted images of just exactly _why_ she forgot last night and she felt her cheeks flush. Her ears were ringing with Helena’s voice whispering, “If tonight is the last I get you for a week, I’m not going to waste it,” as she had pulled Myka into the bedroom. She willed her brain to refocus, attend to the task at hand of simply _opening the door_ , and not letting on where her mind had gone.

Completely oblivious to Myka’s inner struggle, Jeannie continued to stare over the porch railing, “You can’t forget things like that. You’ll kill them.”

“I’m sure they can handle one night.” Myka walked through the door, immediately moving to grab Trailer who had bounded off the couch at her entrance. She knelt down next to him, rubbing his neck while keeping a firm hold on him. Her father wasn’t exactly a dog person and the second Trailer ever even seemed to be inclined to ask for his attention Warren made a huge fuss, so Myka simply tried to get ahead of the situation and keep Trailer by her side. 

Pete lugged their bags through the door, “Home sweet home.” He smiled over his shoulder only to be met with Warren and Jeannie’s matching grimaces, looking as though the last place they wanted to be was back in this house. Pete shot Myka an incredulous look, shrugging his shoulders at the apparently fruitless effort to lighten the mood. He lifted the bags towards Myka, “Guest room, Mykes?”

“Yeah, you can just put them in there.”

“You finally painted…” Jeannie commented, her words surprisingly pleased rather than incredulous.

Myka smiled, looking around the walls which were bathed in a soft blue, “Yeah, last winter. I figured it was time.”

“Still looks the same to me,” Warren grunted, collapsing into a recliner with a sigh.

Myka ignored the comment, knowing it was useless to argue, at least on this point. No matter what she did with the house, her dad always said it still looked how it did when he grew up there. To some that would have seemed like a pleasantly nostalgic way of keeping memories alive, but to Warren it seemed like it was a curse, a visceral pain to be back in this house surrounded by the thought of Pap and Gram. Myka never ceased to assure them that if they wanted her to she would get them a hotel room on the Island, even going so far as to offer to pay for it, as long as they were somewhere that they were comfortable, but they always refused. “Goddamn gluttons for punishment,” Pete had said to her when she told them that yet again they had refused the offer this year. She had rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew why they stayed with her. It was all about the _appearance_ of it. They would visit with old friends all week and make a big show of _how nice it was_ to have family time together, despite how miserable it made them all. They refused the hotel and put up with being crammed together in the house because the last thing they wanted was for anyone to gossip about why they weren’t at Myka’s, as though all of their friends weren’t readily aware of just how strained their relationship with Myka had become. Her parents didn’t care about that reality though, all that mattered to them was that everyone seemed to buy their act, their happy, perfect family act, and who the hell cared who they hurt in the process.

Her mother’s voice broke into her reverie, “Are you learning to bake, Myka?”

Panic pulsed through Myka’s chest, her heart immediately kicking up speed. She was certain that her face mirrored Pete’s as he came back out of the hallway, his eyes wide, jaw ajar. Myka swallowed thickly, praying her voice didn’t reflect the chaos her thoughts were in at the question, “What?”

Jeannie gestured towards a cookbook propped open on the coffee table, “Baking. Are you learning to bake?”

Myka’s eyes darted to the open book, smudged with flour and riddled with Helena’s handwriting. She’d forgotten that it was there, that Helena had left it open and abandoned on the table last night once she’d set her mind to _other_ occupations. Myka had meant to move it in the morning, but had mistakenly left it forgotten. She palmed the back of her neck, “Oh, um, yeah, sort of.” Her stomach roiled at the very obvious lie; it made her feel sick to do this, to lie about whose book it was, why it was there, to pretend like Helena didn’t exist. She didn’t want to do this… 

Shifting towards the table, she picked the book up with a soft smile, “Wolly’s best friend, Helena, is up here for the summer. She’s doing the pastries at the Grand for the summer and she’s been giving me a few tips. That’s hers. She must have left it here the other night.” It was _less_ of a lie. Still very much a _lie_ , but one that didn’t leave Myka feeling like she was going to throw up.

Jeannie shrugged, already disinterested, “As long as you don’t burn the place down.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“She’s not joking, Ophelia. Ask your mother about the first birthday cake she attempted to make when we got married. I had to call the fire department,” Warren’s voice carried from the chair with a hint of playfulness.

Jeannie reached out and smacked his knee, “That was _one time_.”

“One would say one call to the fire department is enough to warrant the teasing, Mom.”

Jeannie fluttered her hands and rolled her eyes, “I’m going to unpack.”

Pete clapped his hands together, “And I need to get home and change for work. Night shift for the Petester tonight.”

“All of you and your _work_. These long hours…they aren’t healthy,” Jeannie sighed.

“Yeah, well, the fudge I sling to tourists isn’t healthy either so it balances out,” Pete grinned.

Jeannie hugged him, “We’ll see you later this week, I’m sure.”

“Of course.” Pete moved into the living room, hugging Myka tightly. “You good?” he whispered into her ear.

Myka squeezed her arms around his waist, “For the moment…yeah.”

“Ok.” He kissed the top of her head and waved to Warren, “Have a good night, Mr. Bering.”

“You too, Pete.”

As Pete waved again while he walked out the door, Myka considered that things, for this one brief moment felt _normal_. Hell, she had actually teased her mother and hadn’t earned a snide comment for it. These moments…they were few and far between with her parents but when they happened she secretly hoped that things would someday maybe just _right themselves_. That thought was shattered in an instant by her father half-shouting, “Myka! _Your dog…_ ”

Myka turned to see Trailer nudge his head under her dad’s hand, incessantly begging for attention. She patted her knee softly, “Trailer, come here, bud.” 

Trailer sighed with annoyance and plodded over to Myka, sitting at her feet, content when she started scratching his ears. 

“That dog is going to drive me insane…” Warren muttered, picking up a stray newspaper from the table and flicking it open. 

Myka sank down onto the couch with a sigh…so much for that moment lasting.

Eventually, as the silence from her father had thickened and her mother had yet to reemerge from the bedroom, Myka figured it would cause absolutely no harm to go back to work. She stood and stretched, “Well, I need to get back to the stables.”

“Of course you do…” Warren mumbled behind his paper.

“I’m sorry, Dad, I just…”

“Oh yes, _work_ , I know. I well remember the hours your grandfather worked, trust me.”

Myka wasn’t going to touch that comment with a ten foot pole. She grabbed her bag from behind the couch, “I’ll take Trailer with me so he doesn’t bug you.”

“You do that.”

“Do you and mom want to get dinner tonight?” It was a weak offer, but one Myka figured she needed to put out there, once again in the name of _trying_.

“I believe your mother already made plans for us.”

“Ah,” Myka nodded, “sure.” She hated that a tiny piece of her ached at that, the very obvious point that her parents weren’t really there to see _her_. This wasn’t about them as a family. It wasn’t about anything beyond fulfilling an obligation and she was foolish to ever question that. Somehow, despite the dig about her hours, her dad really, truly didn’t care whether or not she was around tonight, or whether she was with them. None of it mattered. She didn’t matter. Not to them. Her chest tightened as she put Trailer’s leash on, she needed to get out of the house. Figuring she at least needed to say goodbye to her mom, she yelled out, “Bye Mom.” There was no response and so she figured that her mom was taking her usual, the ferry ride was as traumatic as possible so I must lay down immediately, nap. Silently, she opened the door and walked out of the house with a sigh wondering how on earth two people managed to make her _home_ feel like the last place she ever wanted to be. How somehow her _family_ made her want nothing more than to just be alone.

**

As Myka walked into her office she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She shut the door and unhooked Trailer before pulling it out and checking her messages.

_How are you?_

Unconsciously, Myka smiled, wildly, uncontrollably, because somehow that’s just what Helena did to her nervous system now.

_Better now that I’m back at work._

_And how did the arrival go?_

_Oh swell. In a matter of hours, my mother expressed her displeasure at my flowers and my lack of a relationship with Pete, and my dad made at least four comments about how much he hates Obama, so ya know…perfect._

_Jesus…_

_Welcome to life with my parents._

_You are not allowed to date Pete. I forbid it._

Myka burst out laughing, imagining the inflection of Helena’s voice saying that sentence, the disgusted look that would have accompanied it.

_I’ll bear that in mind, but I am spoken for, so you don’t need to worry._

_Who could be lucky enough to get you?_

_The woman who left her cookbook on my coffee table last night……_

_Oh bollocks, Myka…I’m sorry_

Myka sighed heavily. _This_ was exactly what she _didn’t_ want. Helena being in the position to _apologize_ for being in her life. This had to stop…somehow, at some point she was just going to have to tell her parents.

_Do not apologize. It wasn’t a big deal. I told them it was yours, plain and simple._

_I’m guessing that explanation didn’t come with the small detail as to why I was distracted and thus left my cookbook out in the open?_

_What? You mean how you were too busy using your seduction tactics on me to worry about where your stuff was?_

_I don’t recall you complaining about said tactics…_

_I would never…_

_I remain firm in my assumptions that you didn’t share that information with your parents._

_No—somehow that didn’t come up._

_Myka, I’m sorry this is so complicated._

_Again, do not apologize. This isn’t on you, Nerd. It’s on me._

_Are you ok?_

_I promise you…I’m good._

There was a solid two minute pause in Helena’s typing. The ellipses on Myka’s phone continually blinking and then disappearing, until finally a message came through.

_How late will you be at work tonight?_

Myka smiled contentedly, knowing where the question was leading.

_As late as necessary if it means you can come by once you’re done for the night._

_I’ll see you around 10._

_Sounds perfect._

**

Unfortunately for Myka, her “I have to go back to work,” excuse had a very limited shelf life with her parents when it came to their vacation. No matter her parents’ moods when visiting, no matter the plans they had made independent of Myka, there were certain things that were sacrosanct when they came to the Island, things that they simply had to do together because _they had always done them_. Therefore, Myka knew what it meant when her dad idly commented as she walked back in the house after work on Sunday night that he was golfing Tuesday morning. She knew that those few simple words meant that Tuesday brought with it a decades long Bering vacation tradition: a day at the Grand.

It had been that way since Myka was little. Some of Myka’s earliest memories of the Island actually revolved around this day, this tradition. One of the first things out of Pap’s mouth whenever they got off the ferry was the tee time he had secured for him and her dad. He would be beaming in those moments, because even though it _always happened_ , it didn’t make it any less special, that assurance of having something that many tourists sought, but few actually got: a round of golf at The Jewel, the immaculate, award-winning golf course on the grounds of the Grand. 

That day was the only thing her dad ever enjoyed about vacation. Those days were emblazoned into Myka’s mind, every last detail. She remembered how Gram would always make breakfast in the morning, all of them up and out of bed bright and early, because that was when her dad and Pap would golf…bright and _early_. She remembered how Pap and her dad would head down the hill with their golf clubs slung over their shoulders while the dew still lingered on the grass outside. What she remembered most though, what she remembered with picture perfect clarity was Pap’s smile on those mornings. When she was little, she used to think that that smile was simply because he got a day off of work, and not only did he get the day off but he got to spend that day golfing, something he absolutely adored. As she got older though, and as she discovered the bitter reality of Pap’s relationship with her dad, Myka realized what was really behind that smile. It had nothing to do with golf, it had nothing to do with not being at work, and it had _everything_ to do with the fact that for a few hours he was just a dad getting to be with his son, where they let all their frustrations and anger dissipate, where they were just _together_ , as if everything was normal, as if everything, for once, was happy.

As much as Myka loved seeing that smile when she was little though, it wasn’t her favorite part of the day. Her favorite part came after they left. Her mom would always hustle herself off to get ready, leaving Myka and Tracy with Gram and her green thumb. They would spend the quiet morning hours out in Gram’s garden, Gram quietly singing to herself while she showed the two of them which weeds to pull, which areas needed tending. Inevitably, they would all end up practically head to toe in dirt and when they got back into the house, her mom would fuss and hurry Myka and her sister into the shower because they were always close to running _late_. They would go begrudgingly, always shooting a frustrated, _please don’t make me do this_ , look at Gram who would give them a wink and a smile, and somehow in those moments Myka felt like vacation was truly _starting_. 

Each moment after that always went the same way. The four of them would meet Pap and her dad for lunch at The Jockey Club, the Grand’s equivalent to a clubhouse. Her dad and Pap would always arrive just a shade late, smiles on their faces, a little sunburned, meticulously going over their morning’s play. They would order burgers and sit in the sun, and even in her childhood thoughts, Myka would wonder why things couldn’t _always_ be this way. After lunch, they would idle away their time on the grounds, walking through the gardens, looking at the various topiaries created for that season, and eventually, Pap would give her and Tracy a smile and ask if they were ready to swim. He would playfully race them to the pool house, her dad would pay the _exorbitant_ entrance fee without one word of complaint, and the rest of the afternoon would melt away in a haze of sunshine, croquet, swimming, and napping on the lounge chairs. Eventually, her mom would haul both of them out of the pool to a cacophony of complaints and they would head back to house to get into their “fancy pants,” as Pap lovingly called them.

In their tiny sundresses and sandals, Tracy and Myka would parade up and down the Grand porch, pretending they were important, like they belonged at the Grand, until it was time for their dinner reservation. Myka always felt like she was walking into a palace when she walked into the Grand dining room with its chandeliers and china, its gilt mirrors and shining floors; it was like stepping into another time, another life, where none of the chaos that she knew would return once they got back to Colorado existed, where her parents were happy, where things were simple. For Myka, that one day of the year at the Grand, reminded her that life could be different, reminded her that here on the Island, she could feel at home, she could feel like _herself_.

Now that Myka was older, now that Pap and Gram were gone, now that life with her parents had deteriorated more, the Bering’s day at the Grand felt… _different_. The routine was the same, but everything still felt irrevocably changed. They would all still get up exorbitantly early, but now, Myka was the one making breakfast, keeping to herself while her dad buried his nose in the paper. He would still leave _happy_ , but not as happy as he once was. Her mom would scuttle off to the bathroom, but now Myka would go out and putter in _her_ gardens, with only Trailer for company. Tracy wasn’t there to grumble at the work, Gram wasn’t there to guide her. She would still end up covered in dirt, she would still sing quietly to music no one else could hear, but even though she still felt Gram _there_ …she wasn’t. 

Once she was back in the house, her mother would still flutter her hands and rush her to get ready, and Myka would chuckle, but there was no wink to share in her incredulity. They would walk down the hill to the golf course, they would meet her dad for lunch, but his round was always poor, his game off, and therefore his mood was too. They would idly talk about absolutely _nothing_ of importance, the minutes ticking off the clock slowly. In those moments, Myka would grieve for Pap and Gram all over again, because she would be reminded intimately that they were truly the glue that had held all of them together, and without them…well, while it all looked the same…it would _never_ actually _be_ the same.

**

It was in the midst of the _sameness_ of this particular year that Myka’s mother threw her an unexpected curveball, one that jarred them entirely out of their routine. They were walking through the gardens, her mother’s spirits unnaturally high as they wandered amongst the flowers, when suddenly Jeannie turned to Myka and said, “Oh, Myka, I forgot to mention…I heard about these _teas_ they’re doing here this year. I made us a reservation at four.”

Myka couldn’t hide her surprise. Her mother rarely, if ever, did things outside of their routine, finding comfort in the ritual because it all made the time go _quicker_ , made the days fly by until they could just _go home_. She tried to school her shock into a smile, “Oh…yeah, I wasn’t sure you’d want to do one of those, that’s why I didn’t mention it.”

Jeannie grimaced slightly, a hint of annoyance at Myka’s assumption in her voice, “I think it sounds _lovely,_. Have you been to one yet?”

“No,” Myka shook her head, her inner monologue filling in the rest of the sentence for her, _but my girlfriend is who helped start them so I know all about them._

“Well, we’ll have to cut our time by the pool short so we can go get ready.”

Myka swallowed thickly, the implications of them going to the tea suddenly careening through her mind. Helena was intensely hands on with the teas, which meant she would be there, which meant…she would meet Myka’s mother…

“If you don’t want to go…” Jeannie’s voice reached through the haze of Myka’s thoughts with an irritated edge.

“No, no, Mom, I think it’s great. I’m glad we’re going, really.”

“I hope you don’t expect _me_ to go,” Warren interjected with a huff.

Jeannie laughed lightly, almost authentically, “Clearly not.” She nudged Myka’s shoulder in an awkward attempt at camaraderie, “It will just be a girls’ afternoon.”

Myka attempted to smile, attempted to appear excited, to match her mother’s enthusiasm for their newly laid plans, yet deep down she was nothing more than utterly terrified.

**

It didn’t take long that afternoon for Myka to realize that her terror had been completely and utterly unwarranted. After a solid twenty minutes of Helena’s very pointed _absence_ at the tea, she took advantage of her mother’s getting caught up in a conversation with a friend that lived down from Jane, and snuck her phone out of her purse.

_So…did you see my mother and I at your tea this afternoon and simply decide to not walk into the Hellmouth?_

Much to her surprise, Helena responded quickly.

_You’re here?!_  
Damn…  
Of all the days that I am completely swamped back here..I had to summon reinforcements for the tea. We just have so many reservations to prep for tonight.  
(I do appreciate the Buffy reference by the way) 

Myka chuckled as her phone popped up message after message in quick succession. Eventually, the responses slowed and she was able to send a reply.

_I figured you’d like that one.  
I’m sorry you’re so slammed, but maybe it’s fate’s way of delaying the inevitable which is you having to meet my parents._

_Worried they won’t appreciate my charm?_

_More like I’m worried you won’t appreciate their lack thereof._

_We shall see.  
Ok, my love, enjoy your tea. I have to keep this place from falling into utter chaos._

_Good luck._

Myka slid her phone back into her purse with a sigh of relief. At least she didn’t have to worry about _that_ today. Maybe she could just enjoy her day at the Grand like she used to, like she didn’t have a care in the world. 

**

“So much for that...” Myka muttered to herself, hands fidgeting around and around her napkin in a desperate attempt to keep herself steady so she wouldn’t simply run out of the dining room to avoid what was about to happen next.

They’d had a perfectly nice dinner; almost _too perfect_ , if Myka was being honest. Now, as she was sitting there attempting to not hyperventilate she figured that she should have been anticipating something going wrong. 

They’d been sitting there, enjoying their dessert, a simple, but utterly perfect, to die for, strawberry rhubarb pie. Myka had been trying to savor the moment, to sculpt in her mind exactly how she would tell Helena how much she had loved dessert without stoking Helena’s ego _too much_. Helena would never let her hear the end of it if she knew that the dessert menu had been the first thing Myka had looked at when they sat down, Helena would have gone _on and on_ if she had known that Myka had a harder time deciding what to have for dessert than for dinner, she _really_ would have never let it go if she’d known that Myka’s parents commented that she usually skipped dessert and how she had deftly side-stepped the question simply by saying she was “trying something new” this year. 

No, Helena didn’t need to know _any_ of that, but what Myka absolutely couldn’t wait to tell her were some of the things her parents had said during dessert. They had raved, as much as Myka’s parents could _rave_ , about the pie. Her mom had even gone so far as to say that she couldn’t remember the dessert menu at the Grand ever being quite like _this_. The word _nostalgia_ had even been bandied about and inside Myka had _thrilled_ at that, thinking back to that conversation in the coffee shop when she had first encouraged Helena to approach the dinner menu with that sort of mindset. Her mom had glanced at Myka with a curious look, as if she was remembering something and then said, “Didn’t you say that one of Wolly’s friends is doing the pastry this year?”

Myka’s last bite of pie had almost caught in her throat, because _since when_ did her mother remember little details like that? She had nodded carefully, trying to keep her face as neutral as possible, “Yeah, Helena. She and Wolly went to culinary school together in DC.”

“Well,” Jeannie returned her focus to her quickly disappearing pie, “maybe he can convince her to stay because this is wonderful.”

At that, Myka was thankful that she had finished her own dessert because if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to finish it. Acid immediately boiled in her stomach, her chest tightening at what she was going to have to say to her mother. She cleared her throat with a grating sound, “I’m sure he’ll try…but she has a restaurant in DC…”

Her mother had simply shrugged at that and gone back to her plate, completely ignorant to the cascade of quiet devastation that was roiling through Myka’s mind. 

That devastation didn’t have too long to take up residence before it was quickly replaced with panic, however. When their waiter brought their bill, her dad halted him before he could walk away, “Would it be possible for us to pay our compliments to the chef?”

Their waiter had looked at them skeptically, uncertain what to do with such a request, before he quickly shifted back into the perfectly accommodating persona of all the Grand staff, “I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

Just as he was walking away, her mom stopped him with a hand on his arm, “Oh and see if we might be able to do the same to the pastry chef as well.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Myka should have known it was coming, because, once again, for as much as some things had changed with this vacation of her parents, some things _always_ remained the same, and _this_ , this was very much the same. Her dad did it every year, no matter how awkward it was, no matter how strange the wait staff always found the request. Yet, while she had been anticipating her dad asking to see Wolly, never in her wildest dreams had she imagined they’d ask to see Helena too. It wasn’t as if she had thought she would get through the entire week without having to introduce Helena to her parents, but she had hoped for a little bit more time to prepare, time to process, time to be able to make sure she had the entire situation under control. 

She couldn’t keep her eyes from darting back and forth between their table and the doors leading to the kitchens. Maybe Helena would be too busy to come out. Yet, she knew that was a foolish thought. Wolly would know _exactly_ who had asked to see them, and there was _no way_ he would let Helena beg out of it, even if she wanted to. 

Eventually the door swung open and Myka was certain she couldn’t breathe, because there was just _no stopping_ this whatsoever. Thankfully, her parents had their backs to the door, so they couldn’t see the smile Helena gave Myka as she approached, the swift wink, the way she mouthed, “It’s ok.” Thankfully, they were so wrapped up in getting the bill paid that they totally missed the smile that overtook Myka’s face when Helena and Wolly got to the table, the way that just by looking at Helena, everything in Myka’s world settled back to contented normalcy.

“And there are the Berings!” Wolly’s usually booming voice was a bit more subdued within the confines of the dining room, but it was still enough to draw a surprised gasp from Jeannie. 

Warren turned slightly, almost cracking a smile, at Wolly’s approach. He held out a hand to Wolly, “Always one to make an entrance.”

Wolly gave Myka’s parents a beaming smile, one that said he knew they weren’t always fans of his boisterousness, but that he didn’t particularly care. He shook Warren’s hand quickly, “Entrances are indeed my specialty, along with my whitefish.” He shot a playful wink at Jeannie, before turning his tone a bit more serious, “How was your dinner?”

Jeannie slapped a light hand against Wolly’s forearm, “It was delicious… _as always_.”

“I can never be sure with you two, I always feel a bit as if I’m being called in to the headmaster’s office when you two ask to see me.”

Myka smirked behind her hand, trying not to enjoy too much the way that Wolly managed to rib a little at her parents all while maintaining his winning smile and charm. 

Before Myka could truly process what was going on her mother was reaching a hand out to Helena with an appraising smile, “And you must be Helena. Wolly…your food is delicious, but your manners…”

Helena stifled a chortle as she shook Jeannie’s hand, “I tell him that all the time, actually, but yes, I’m H.G.” She chanced a quick look, a soft smile Myka’s way, “Wolly and Myka are the only ones who tend to call me Helena.”

Myka felt a quick blush rise into her cheeks. Her parents would have no idea the implication of what Helena had said, would assume that Helena actually didn’t like it when she and Wolly used her full name, but knowing that Helena preferred to keep that sacred to only a chosen few…it made Myka’s heart do an awkward stutter-step that she was one of those that got to use it.

“Your dessert menu was…impressive. Different from anything we’ve seen here in awhile.” Her dad’s voice grated a bit on Myka’s ears. She knew he was trying to be charming, but it always came out a bit gruff, a bit cold.

Helena’s smile was polite, but thin, “Thank you. I’ve tried to change things up a bit since I’ve been here. Myka was actually quite instrumental in helping me find inspiration for it.” Helena’s eyes raced to Myka, shining with adoration and a bit of playful teasing.

Jeannie looked at Myka skeptically, “The girl who hates sugar, building dessert menus.”

Myka’s cheeks reddened impossibly more, particularly when she caught the look Helena was giving her, “Yeah…well…I’ve had a bit of a change of heart on that front.”

“I’m afraid that’s my fault; I’ve been a bit demanding that she expand her sugared horizons.” Helena’s smile widened as she risked another wink Myka’s way, “Did _you_ enjoy dessert, Myka?”

“My entirely empty plate would indicate that I did, yes,” Myka smirked.

Wolly cleared his throat roughly next to them, shooting Helena a wary glance, clearly worried that if they spent too much longer in the dining room, Helena and Myka’s attempts at keeping their relationship quiet would go up in smoke. He reached out his hand again to Warren, “We really should be getting back, can’t have our staff burning the place down on us.”

“Of course, of course. Good to see you, Wolly.”

“You too, Mr. and Mrs. Bering.”

Jeannie smiled at Helena, “Nice to meet you, H.G.”

“You as well. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Myka sucked in a deep breath as she watched Wolly and Helena retreat from the table, suddenly aware that she hadn’t been properly breathing the entire time they’d been there. 

“They make a lovely pair,” Jeannie commented as she began gathering her things to leave.

Myka’s forehead crinkled, “Who? Wolly and Helena?”

“Yes…they’re adorable.”

Myka’s stomach twisted awkwardly, remembering Pete and Steve’s bet about Wolly and Helena from what felt like eons ago. She stood up quickly, unwilling to let the conversation linger, “Yeah, no, they’re definitely not together.”

“Really?” Jeannie sounded so astonished that Myka _almost_ laughed.

“Definitely, definitely not.”

“Well, they’d make quite the couple, I think.”

Rather than focus on her mother’s complete and total obliviousness to how her words were impacting Myka, Myka chose to imagine what Wolly and Helena would say to such a suggestion. Myka chuckled softly, pushing a hand against the small of her mom’s back encouraging her out of the dining room, “Tell them that and see what they say.” Myka shook her head as they exited the dining room… _if her mother could read her thoughts…_

**

_This is bloody criminal…and cruel._

Myka’s phone vibrated as she was sitting up in bed reading, not nearly tired enough for sleep, but certainly not patient enough to sit up and watch the news with her parents, which she knew would come with far more commentary than she would ever care to hear. She read Helena’s text several times over, trying to figure out what she was talking about.

_I need some more info here, Nerd. What on earth are you declaring criminal and cruel?_

_My woeful state of being alone…in bed…with images of you in that bloody dress you were wearing tonight in my head…  
Criminal…cruel_

Myka couldn’t help, couldn’t contain the smile on her face. It never ceased to shock her, and please her immensely, that somehow she managed to get Helena worked up, without even particularly trying sometimes. It didn’t quite compute in her mind that someone like Helena, someone as devastatingly, drop dead gorgeous as Helena, could be sitting in bed…thinking about her.

_I apologize. Clearly I should have worn a burlap sack to dinner, prevented you from being in your current state._

_It wouldn’t have mattered. I would still be here declaring that being on the opposite side of this Island from you is criminal and cruel.  
You looked remarkable tonight. Your parents are lucky I was actually able to form coherent words instead of just staring at you._

_YOU’RE lucky that my parents didn’t say to you what they said to me when you two left._

_Which was…_

_That you and Wolly make a lovely couple_

_My God, no_

_My God, yes_

_That’s horrifying._

_I thought similarly._

_Well, now you’ve thoroughly distracted me from my criminally cruel thoughts, which is also criminal and cruel.  
Replacing thoughts of you in your dress with thoughts of Wolly and I._

_What on earth are you going to do now that you have something else to think about?_

_Convince you to sneak out and see me so that my thoughts can once again return to a proper, non-shudder inducing vein._

_Like some teenager in a bad movie?_

_I’m a nerd, I love bad movies._

_You’re incorrigible._

_I’m…well…I’m a proper, British woman, who doesn’t use the words for what I am in polite company._

Heat blossomed through Myka’s chest, dipping down into her stomach with enough force to make her consider sneaking out. Yet, she knew there was no scenario in which that worked out well or without raising a million questions from her parents. She sighed, “Jesus Christ…I’m thirty fucking years old…this is ridiculous.” She sighed and typed out a response.

_You know what’s criminal and cruel?  
Flirting with me when there’s nothing we can do about it._

_I gave you a perfectly viable option of sneaking out to see me._

_Another perfectly viable option is a cold shower._

_You are positively no fun, darling._

_I swear I will make it up to you._

_You will keep that promise, Myka Bering._

_I absolutely will._

**

“Jane, you know you don’t have to do this every year. I feel like I should be paying the bills for your high blood pressure, because I’m pretty sure _this_ is the main cause of it.” Myka leaned back against the counter in Jane’s kitchen, nursing her beer and an incredulous look while Jane continued to diligently chop vegetables, the furrow that had creased her forehead the second Myka’s parents had walked in the house still very much _present_.

Jane sliced a bit too sharply through a pepper, causing her knife to ring off the cutting board. She pulled Myka’s beer out of her hand, took a sip of her own, and then put it on the opposite side of the counter away from Myka’s grasp, “The last thing we need is another year of your mother lecturing all of us about how much we drink up here.”

Myka smirked, “You mean the lecture she gave _you_ about how you let the _children_ drink.”

“Because none of you are thirty years old and your own people, because I don’t have a son who came very close to having a drinking problem, because _clearly_ I want nothing more than to provide you all with a million reasons to make irresponsible decisions.”

“And so we return to me saying _you don’t have to do this_.”

Jane rolled her eyes, “Yes I do. The least I can do for you is give you one night with all of us, where you aren’t on your own to figure out how to keep them entertained. I can provide one night of being a buffer.” Jane leaned through the kitchen doorway, seeming to scope out who was within earshot before returning to her chopping and shooting Myka a coy look, “It also means I can provide you with a night to actually see your girlfriend for more than five minutes.”

“You’re a meddler, you know that, right?”

“I do.”

Myka leaned over and placed a kiss to Jane’s cheek, “And I adore you for it, for _all_ of it, so thank you.”

“No thanks needed, dear. Now…” Jane slid the cutting board towards Myka, gesturing to the rest of the peppers, “Finish these for me and tell me truly, _how are you?_ ” 

Myka shrugged, “I’m fine. They’ve been…subdued this week, which is good, but also leaves me feeling like…”

“You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I’ll be damned if that shoe drops in my house tonight, so just enjoy dinner, enjoy seeing H.G. and worry about the shoe tomorrow.”

“Sage advice, Jane. You are a paragon of wisdom.”

“Of that, I am aware.”

**

Despite never failing to feel guilty that Jane felt the need to host her parents at least one night while they were in town, Myka would whole-heartedly admit that it was nice to have a bit of a night off. Jane always made way too much food and kept the conversation geared towards entirely neutral topics in order to keep things relatively light and non-volatile. 

When they sat down to dinner, Jane had been slightly _forceful_ about the seating arrangements, doing everything in her power to keep Myka’s parents on the polar opposite end of the table from Myka and ensuring that Myka was seated next to H.G. To everyone else, the maneuver was entirely obvious, but Myka’s parents remained blissfully ignorant of what was happening and for that one brief moment, Myka said a word of thanks that her parents would never even _think_ that it was possible for their daughter to be with a woman, so would never think twice about them making a point to sit together. 

At one point, while her mother was on a tangent about the latest saga in Tracy and her husband Kevin’s house renovations, Helena leaned over and whispered as covertly as possible to Myka, “You know for not wanting to sneak out last night, _this_ is making me feel like a teenager.”

Myka felt her cheeks flare with heat, even while a smirk pulled at her lips, “Why? Because we’ve been trying adamantly to hide the fact that we’ve been holding hands under the table through this entire meal?”

Helena chuckled low in her throat, causing Myka’s stomach to turn pleasantly, “Indeed. It’s a bit… _attractive_ …feeling like it’s such a scandal to simply be holding your hand.”

“That tone of voice is attractive and it’s not fair.”

“A little bit of a retaliation for last night.”

“I am neither cruel nor a criminal, Nerd.”

“ _Lies_ …you, Myka Bering, are entirely _wicked_ and you know it.”

“H.G.! Here I didn’t think it was possible for you to talk to _anyone else_ at dinner except for Liam!” Claudia burst out, giving Myka and Helena a look that said clearly they were dancing dangerously close to being a bit too _obvious_ with their attention.

Helena sat up straight, not even realizing how close she had been leaning to Myka. She gave Claudia a glinting smile, “Well, Liam is by far the most civilized of our little group, so he provides perfect company.”

“Oh come on! Who needs _civilized_ when you have me and Pete? Our charm beats civilized any day.” Wolly threw a playful arm around Pete’s shoulder with a cheeky smile.

“It is a wonder that I let any of you in my house,” Jane sighed at the end of the table.

Before anyone could respond, Helena spoke up, “Where are Steve and Liam, by the way?”

A chilled silence descended around the table, leaving Helena feeling as though she had distinctly missed something. Claudia gave her a sympathetic look, “Uh…we had a bit of an emergency at the stables tonight. He volunteered to stay at work and make sure things were ok, Liam decided to keep him company.”

Helena turned to Myka with a questioning look, not particularly caring if Myka’s parents found her interest in the topic odd, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine, nothing Steve can’t handle.”

Myka spoke so quickly and returned to her dinner with such focused attention that Helena was _certain_ there was something happening that she was unaware of. As the conversation slowly picked back up around the table, Helena squeezed Myka’s knee under the table, whispering, “Did I miss something? You didn’t mention anything was wrong at work…”

“That was a very deft lie on Claud’s part.”

“Then where are Steve and Liam?”

Myka grimaced, her jaw clinching tightly, “They…they don’t really like to be around my parents.”

Helena searched Myka’s face for a clearer answer, until she finally put the pieces together. She sighed heavily, “Well, that’s just lovely…”

“I told you…my parents are…”

“It is unimportant what your parents are, what’s important is getting you through this week in one piece.”

Myka smiled softly and rejoined her hand with Helena’s giving it a light squeeze, “Thanks, Nerd.”

“You jump, I jump remember?”

Myka blushed warmly, “I remember.”

**

Myka was trying desperately to pay attention to the cards in her hand. She knew she needed to focus; she and Pete had an impeccable record when it came to Euchre and she had no intention of letting that record falter simply because her parents were _distracting_. She tried to follow the conversation around the table, the ebb and flow of which tricks were being made, which way she needed to adjust her next move to set up Pete for his. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, her ears kept pricking at the sound of her mother’s voice on in the background, going on and on _and on_ to Jane about Tracy, about their life in Colorado.

She just wanted to play cards. It was one of the things she loved most about life on the Island, the amount of downtime they had like this to just _enjoy_ doing the simple, little things together, like getting into a vigorously competitive, usually scream-inducing round of Euchre. She loved playing with Pete, the way that they had developed a short hand for playing, how they’d been that way since they were little. She loved that she could feel Helena watching over her shoulder, intricately trying to follow the play, pick up the rules as the game continued. She loved how Kelly and Claudia’s voices got louder and louder the more frustrated they got the closer the game got to the end. Yet…with her mother right behind her…it all dimmed a little bit. Her mother’s train of thought was never-ending and utterly incessant, not stopping at all even to let Jane get a comment in if she wanted to.

“It’s just so nice seeing Tracy happy and settled. She and Kevin are just so… _perfect_ together. They balance each other, and now that they have kids, well, you just don’t realize what it will be like to see your kids become parents until they do, and it’s just…incredible. Of course, Tracy is just balancing so much, working, raising a child, being a wife, I don’t know how she does it, but then again, that’s just always been Tracy.”

Warren’s voice broke into the conversation, “Tracy has really made quite the life for herself, makes me proud.”

As if sensing her mounting tension, and taking advantage of how little attention Myka’s parents were paying to all of them around the card table, Myka felt Helena run her fingertips down the back of her neck with just enough force to be soothing. Helena let her fingers rest there, on the nape of Myka’s neck, the movement completely hidden with Helena’s body blocking Myka from the view of her parents. For one small moment, Myka stilled, feeling some of her agitation ebb, until her mother’s voice _just kept going._

“If only Myka were settled. You know, we had thought it would happen with Sam, and then, well…who knows what happened there. He seemed so happy…”

_He seemed so happy_. Of course her parents would have _no idea_ what Myka had gone through with Sam. Of course it would have all been about _Sam’s_ happiness and not her own. Of course they would only expect her to be settled once she’d found a _man_. Of course they never could have imagined that she was settled, that she was happy simply being on the Island, doing what she loved. Of course they couldn’t see what was right in front of them, that Myka _was_ happy, happy with everything in her life, _including_ Helena.

As calmly as she could, Myka stood up, feeling Helena’s nails trickle away from her body. She nodded towards Wolly who was nursing a glass of whiskey away from the table, “Hey, you want to tap in for me for a second?”

Wolly didn’t even hesitate, didn’t question. Everyone in the living room was _perfectly aware_ of the impact Jeannie’s words were having on Myka, and no one was going to force her to stay and listen to any more of them. Wolly tucked a kiss to her cheek with a charming smile, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your record intact.”

Myka walked out of the living room as fast as she could without actually _running_ , even though she wanted to sprint out the front door and never look back, pretend like she had never heard any of what her mother had said. She stepped out into Jane’s backyard, sucking in a deep breath, letting the slight breeze that was in the air run through her curls, soothe her nerves, ease her mind back to some sense of comfort. Idly, she wandered through Jane’s garden, the mere act of just _moving_ helping her blood pressure return to a normal rate. She leaned against the back fence, staring out across Jane’s neighbor’s yard, listening to the soft clop of hooves coming from the road, the racing of bike wheels down the hill towards Main Street. _This_ was home. _This_ was contentment. Her parents and whatever they thought about her life didn’t matter.

In some odd way, Myka sensed Helena before she even heard her, let alone saw her. She didn’t turn around, didn’t say anything, just smiled softly because she had _known_ that Helena would figure out a way to sneak out, would have come up with some excuse to find her.

“You know, usually it’s my job to sneak out of parties like this…” Helena’s voice trickled into her ears, even as Helena’s arms wound around her waist, Helena’s chin coming to rest on her shoulder.

Myka leaned back into Helena’s hold, “I figured I’d take a page out of your book tonight since it always seems to work so well for you.”

“Yes, well, most of the time my intention in sneaking out was to lure you out with me so I could get you alone for a few minutes.”

Myka chuckled softly, “Who’s to say that wasn’t my plan too?”

“I wish that was the reason you were out here, love.” Helena squeezed her arms around Myka’s waist, placing a kiss to the side of Myka’s neck, “I am so sorry.”

“Absolutely nothing for you to apologize for, Nerd.”

“I know, I just…I never expected…”

“What? That they’d be so callous? So entirely oblivious to what they’re saying? Or worse _completely aware_ of what they’re saying and what it’s doing to me and continuing to do it anyway?”

Helena shifted so that she could stand in front of Myka, could look her in the eye when she said what she was going to say. She took a deep breath, leveling Myka with the smile that she knew Myka adored, “You have built an utterly remarkable, _breathtaking_ life, Myka. You know who you are. Everyone else on this Island knows how happy you are, how _incredible_ you are. Do not let them take that away from you.”

Myka swiped at the tears that were starting to trickle down her cheeks, “You’d think by now I’d be used to their usual topics of conversation. You’d think I could just ignore it by now.”

“No, my love.” Helena brushed the backs of her fingertips over Myka’s cheek, “No one should be used to that.” 

As Myka’s tears continued to fall, Helena pulled her into a tight hug, choosing not to say anything else, deciding that maybe for now, all Myka needed was to be held, to be allowed to _breathe_ for a few minutes. Eventually, Helena loosened her grip and slipped her hand into Myka’s tugging her away from the back fence and towards the side of the house that was doused in darkness. 

Myka gave her a skeptical look, “What are you doing?”

Helena smirked, tucking Myka up against the siding, nestling them perfectly into the shadows, “I’m distracting you.”

“You’re insane.”

“Noted. Are you complaining?”

Myka smiled brightly, “Not a bit.”

“Good, because I’m pretty sure someone will come looking for us eventually, and if we only have a few minutes…” Helena tucked her hands under Myka’s jaw, drawing her forward into a toe-curling kiss. Gradually, she let her hands drift down, simply slipping her thumbs under the hem of Myka’s shirt, rubbing circles against Myka’s hips. As she felt Myka’s muscles unclench beneath her, as a long, breathy sigh escaped Myka’s lips, Helena pulled away. 

Myka groaned slightly, “Why are you stopping?”

Helena rolled her eyes, “Because if I don’t, we will be in an entirely compromised position far too quickly, and because this was meant to distract you and calm you down…”

“You think I’m buying that you weren’t also trying to get me worked up?”

Helena chuckled, “Well, if you’re worked up, you’ll have _that_ to focus on when we go back inside rather than your parents, so mission accomplished.”

Myka tilted her head back against the house with another soft groan, “And you call me wicked.”

Helena leaned in and left a quick peck to Myka’s lips, “You took a page out of my book tonight, I took one out of yours.”

“Oh Nerd…what on earth would I do without you?”

The answers to that question were things that Helena didn’t want to contemplate for the night, so instead of responding, she tucked her hand into Myka’s with a small squeeze and ushered them back into the house, hoping that these few brief moments, this one tiny interlude could carry them through the next few hours, if not the next few days. Everything else could wait until Myka’s parents had left.

**

Thursday afternoon Myka sat staring at her computer, eyes darting between her screen and her watch. She could go home. It’d been a slow week, and everything for the weekend was already prepped. She could go home. Usually, it wasn’t even a question, but knowing she was going home to her parents…well, that took some consideration.

With a heavy sigh, she started packing up her things. She could still try. She could go home and see if they wanted to go down to the Pink Pony for dinner. Her mom always liked sitting out on the patio and watching the boats. Maybe they could manage one more moment of civilized conversation, one more moment of _almost_ happiness before they left. 

She texted Steve who was at the mechanic’s dealing with a beat up carriage, that she was leaving and that he could head out whenever he was done for the day. Despite the fact that she was going home to her parents, Myka felt amazingly _light_ , which she realized probably had everything to do with the fact that Helena had unexpectedly come by the stables at lunch with two brown bags in her hand and declared that she had told Wolly she was taking an hour off because she was tired of not seeing Myka. 

Myka biked up the hill with memories of the afternoon blissfully floating through her mind, content that they would serve to get her through the rest of the night.

At first when she walked in the house she couldn’t figure out what she was seeing. Her parents suitcases were by the door and there was a feverish sound of shuffling feet down the hall.

“Mom? Dad?” 

Jeannie stormed out of the hall, slamming her purse onto the top of her suitcase without saying a word.

“Mom, what the hell are you doing? What’s with the suitcases?”

Jeannie addressed her words into her purse where she was busily rummaging through it, “We’re leaving.”

Myka laughed incredulously, “What? No, you don’t leave until Saturday.”

“No,” Jeannie stood up ramrod straight, eyes flaring with an unchecked anger that Myka had rarely seen. “We’re leaving now.”

“Why?”

Warren emerged from the hallway with his bag over his shoulder, “ _Why?_ Because your mother saw you with that woman today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Euchre is an insanely weird card game particular to us Midwestern folks who have way too much time in the winter holed up in the house, and so we come up with strange things to keep us occupied. You can Google the rules if you want and I will do my best to explain any questions you have :-P


	11. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inevitable consequences of Myka's parents discovering her relationship with Helena..
> 
> Change is always hard, but that doesn't mean it can't lead to wondrous places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, y'all...I'm so sorry.  
> This summer has been so chaotic and when that married with a heavy dose of writer's block, well...it leads to almost a four month gap between updates.  
> The good news is the next chapter is already underway and you have almost 20K words comin' your way, so hopefully it will in some way make up for the woeful delay.  
> Thank you, thank you, thank you for waiting this out and for sticking around. Awesomeness and endless wonder to everyone :)

_Myka was buried head first in her books, distractedly frustrated that somehow she was already this far behind, this early in the summer. It always happened, inevitably every summer; the normal, tedious, every day things like paperwork got shoved to the side in the wake of more urgent matters, some emergencies, some just the general joy of life on the Island in the summer. Yet, usually she didn’t hit this point until August at least, but here she was…completely behind. She was desperately trying to play catch up during a bit of free time until there was a light knock on her door, followed by Helena’s very definitive, playful voice, “Now this is precisely why I needed to come down here today. You, Myka Bering, need some distraction from all of your work.”_

_Unconsciously, a smile broke over Myka’s face, even as she tried to finish the thought she was attempting to get down on paper. She scribbled the rest down quickly before turning her gaze to Helena. Biting down on the corner of her lip, she leaned back in her chair, “Actually distraction has been my problem lately, apparently. Is it possible to drown in paperwork?”_

_“I don’t think literally, darling.” Helena pushed off of the doorframe and strode into Myka’s office, moving to delicately lean against the edge of Myka’s desk, setting the bags that were in her hand next to her._

_Myka groaned and pushed herself forward to rest her head against Helena’s thigh, “Then I am figuratively drowning in paperwork.”_

_Helena pushed her hand through Myka’s curls, eliciting a small kind of whimper from the back of Myka’s throat. She sighed quietly, “If you’re that behind, love, I can simply drop this off and let you get back to work.”_

_“No,” Myka’s head snapped up, eyes bright with worried anticipation. “No, stay, please, because one, I haven’t eaten anything all day and two, I have not seen you nearly enough this week. That is just as distracting as my backlog of paperwork.”_

_A pleased smile broke across Helena’s face and she tucked some of Myka’s errant curls behind her ear, “I am inclined to say that you just saw me last night.”_

_“And I’m inclined to say that I’m used to seeing you every night…I’m used to sleeping next to you every night…therefore, not nearly enough.”_

_“Used to me being around already?”_

_“To the point of distraction, apparently,” Myka smirked._

_“Well then let me assuage your distraction on multiple fronts. I will stay and I brought lunch.”_

_“You are a saint.”_

_“A saintly distraction,” Helena smiled with a hint of wicked enjoyment. “I should put that on my business cards.”_

_“Without a doubt.” Myka’s eyes flitted to the bag next to Helena, hands itching to peek inside, “So…you brought lunch?”_

_“I did…and don’t think for one second that I can’t see how much you are anticipating that fact.”_

_“As I said, no breakfast.”_

_“I’m sure that’s what it is, darling.”_

_Myka rolled her eyes and pulled the bag towards her, hands already diving inside to pull out containers. She shot Helena a sidelong glance, “So how long is this distraction?”_

_Helena grimaced, “Only an hour, but I figured even if that was all we could get, I’d take it for all it was worth.”_

_Myka stood, deciding to delay her lunch for a few more moments, and nestled herself between Helena’s knees with a playful smirk, hands running up and down Helena’s thighs._

_Helena eyed her with a teasing, dancing smirk, “Is this where I find out about your stables and their aphrodisiac qualities?”_

_“Not yet, Nerd,” Myka chuckled. “I just want a kiss.”_

_“Well…I suppose I can accommodate that. After all, I did bring you lunch so I would say I deserve one.”_

_After that, it took them more than a handful of minutes to actually get to their lunches, not caring at all that they were in Myka’s office, in full view of the entire stables._

**

Myka stared at her mother, jaw slightly ajar, her forehead crinkled in confusion, her mind replaying in rapid fire succession the events of her day, desperately clawing to figure out when, how it was possible that her mother had seen her with Helena. Finally, the only logical explanation careened to the front of her mind, implausible as it seemed, it was glaringly clear. She sighed, leaning back against the door heavily, “You came by the stables today…”

“Yes.” Jeannie’s nostrils flared, her cheeks somehow simultaneously flushed with anger and starkly pale. She straightened, her shoulders rigid with indignation. 

Myka could perfectly envision the thought going through her mother’s head at that moment. She would see herself as standing, straight and tall, on her moral high ground, ready to pronounce judgment on everything that was wrong with Myka. Myka’s stomach churned with the realization that somehow her mother had probably been waiting for this moment for years.

Jeannie’s words snapped out of her mouth as if each word were a bullet, meant to target Myka right to her core. “I came down to see if you might want to have lunch together. I thought it would be nice, I thought maybe we could have some time together.”

The faux sadness, the righteous indignation in Jeannie’s voice, the way she made the suggestion as though it was the most commonplace thing in the world, rather than what it really was, completely abnormal, made Myka roll her eyes so hard it hurt. There were many things her mother did well, cloying sweetness was not one of them, and Myka refused to buy into what Jeannie was attempting to sell her. 

Jeannie, however, didn’t seem to notice Myka’s reaction, too busy picking up steam on what seemed to be a rant that might never end, “I came down to your office, ready for a nice afternoon with my daughter and then I had see _that_. You, in your office, with _that woman_ …doing…” Jeannie’s words stuttered in her throat, her body giving what appeared to be an involuntary shudder, as if her entire being was wholly repulsed by the mere thought of what she’d seen.

Myka pushed herself off of the wall, a surge of visceral, boiling rage coursing through her, “Jesus, mother, it’s not like we were having sex. You can just say it, you saw me kissing my girlfriend.”

If it was possible, Jeannie paled even further, her words shaking as they purged themselves from her throat, “I will not say that, I won’t even _think_ it.”

“Yes, because the _goddamn world will end_ if your daughter is dating a woman. Heaven forbid.”

“Do not use that language, Ophelia.” Warren’s voice rang through the living room, heavy and thick with an anger that Myka recognized far too well from her childhood. 

Inwardly, Myka said a small word of thanks that somehow, somewhere along the line, she had stopped being afraid of that voice, of letting it have one ounce of power over her. Somewhere within her, deep within her very being, Myka felt something burst and solidify with the recognition that she didn’t owe her parents _anything_. They didn’t deserve explanations, they didn’t deserve patience, they didn’t deserve respect and calm and cooler heads prevailing. A small voice resounded in her head that sounded an awful lot like Pete whispering to her, “Fuck ‘em.” She took a small step forward, steeling herself against whatever onslaught was about to happen, “Do not call me, Ophelia.”

It had been a power play on her dad’s part, that one word. When she was little he would only use it when he was mad, a harsh call of her middle name to let her know that she had, once again, done something wrong. Those few syllables brought into Myka’s mind the dawning realization that in her parents’ eyes she was still a little kid, able to be pushed around. They were woefully mistaken on that front, she would no longer let them do this to her.

Warren’s eyes flared with heat, “Do not use that tone with me.”

“This is _my_ house. I will use whatever tone I like, and I certainly won’t let you talk to me like that, not anymore, and not in my own house, that’s for damn sure.”

“ _Your_ house?” Warren scoffed.

“Yes, _my_ house. Pap and Gram left it to _me_. This is _my_ place, not yours. I don’t care if you seem to have forgotten that.” 

“And what would your grandparents say if they knew this about you, Ophelia? What would Pap say if he knew you were doing what your mother saw you doing in _his_ office?”

Myka actually _laughed_. She couldn’t help herself, it was all too ridiculous, how little her parents really knew about her life, how little her dad knew about his own parents, how little they knew about the life Myka had had with Pap and Gram. 

“What’s so funny?” Jeannie’s voice faltered, shaking with uncertainty and worry.

Myka shook her head, “What’s funny is that dad wants to know what Pap and Gram would say. You want to know what they’d say? They’d probably say exactly what they said to me the first time I brought my girlfriend in college up here during the summer. They’d say, nice to meet you, we’ve heard so much about you; you and Myka’s bedroom is down the hall.”

Myka thrilled slightly to see her dad actually stumble a bit at that revelation. She could see him physically trying to rebuild his argument against her in his mind. Eventually, his response sputtered past his lips ineloquently, “They…they _knew_? This whole time?”

“Of course they knew! They’d known since I was _sixteen_. I came out to them right after I came out to Pete, and do you know what they said? They said all they cared about was that I was loved and that I was happy.”

“I don’t believe that,” Warren’s words were hard, unshakeable.

“Believe what you want. It’s true.”

“And…and they met…” Jeannie seemed incapable of forming words.

Myka rolled her eyes, “My girlfriends? Yeah, they met a couple of them.”

“How…how could you not tell us, Myka?”

Myka couldn’t tell if it was her mother’s shock that was making her sound almost…heartbroken, or if it was actually remorse. Inwardly, she knew it was the former, no matter how much she wished it might be the latter. Myka sighed heavily, “You’re really asking me that? With how _well_ this conversation is going? I know you, mother. I know you both, and knew this is _exactly_ how it was going to go. You have _never_ been supportive of _any_ of the decisions I’ve made, and I knew there was no way in hell you would support this, what with all your hellfire and damnation talk when I was little. So, no, I didn’t tell you. You didn’t deserve to know. You still don’t.”

“We are your _parents_ , Ophelia,” Warren’s voice bellowed, as his fist crashed down on the back of the couch.

“Really, dad? That’s the card you’re going to play? You’re my parents? Were you my parents when you told me that you wished I was more like Tracy when I was little? Were you my parents when you said that going to U of M was a terrible decision? Were you my parents when you were horrified and livid that Pap and Gram left me this house instead of you? Are you my parents right now as you’re running out of my house because you can’t stand the thought that I’m in love with a woman?”

Before Warren could respond, Jeannie’s voice piped up, once again hollow and a little broken, “ Does your sister know?”

Myka chuckled roughly, “ _Yes_ , Tracy knows, and _yes_ , Tracy knows about Helena. Tracy has known about every person I’ve dated, she’s met a few too. And before you ask, _yes_ , she has supported my not telling you.”

“So you’ve made your sister lie to her parents?” Warren bit out.

“I guarantee you, Tracy would rather have spent a lifetime lying to you than having me have to go through this conversation.”

Warren hefted his bag onto his shoulder, reaching a hand out to grip around the handle of Jeannie’s suitcase, “You have always been ungrateful, Ophelia. Always telling us how terrible we were, never appreciating that you wouldn’t have this life if it weren’t for us…”

“I have this life because of Pap and Gram, not because of you. I have this life _in spite_ of you. If you had it your way, I’d still be some quiet, unassuming girl holed up in Colorado, helping at the bookstore and settled down with some boring, former high school quarterback.”

“That would be better than _this_ , than you…with…with her. You have ruined your life, Ophelia. Your grandparents would be so disappointed.”

That was the last straw, Myka could take a lot from her parents, but that…insinuating that she had done anything other than make Pap and Gram proud, she wouldn’t listen to it. She shifted, her hand gripping around the doorknob so hard the metal cut into her hand. She jerked the door open, “Get out. Get the hell out of their house, out of _my_ house. I don’t want you here…ever again. We’re done.”

Warren surged forward almost tipping the suitcase forward in his rush to get out of the door as fast as possible, “You’re damn right about that, we are.”

“Oh dad…” Myka sighed, “You shouldn’t use that language.”

Before either of her parents could get another word in, Myka slammed the door behind them so hard that it shook her keys off of the side table. She reached a shaking hand out, steadying herself against the door, sucking in deep, rasping breaths. It was done. Over. Finished. Finally. As she pulled in another breath, it raked through her lungs and came out as a sob. She couldn’t get control over her muscles, feeling like she might never stop shaking. Her knees finally gave out beneath her as she sank onto the floor, tears that she couldn’t control flooding out of her. She kept trying to tell herself that this is what she had wanted, freedom, a life free from the grip of her parents’ judgment and criticism, but deep down…she knew she had never wanted it to end up like this.

**

Pete emerged onto Main Street, stretching his arms over his head, feeling the pull of the muscles between his shoulder blades, the slight twinge of tightness there. He sucked in a deep breath, air rushing into his lungs bringing with it a heady mix of chocolate, butter, the lake, and of course…horses. He was grateful for the break; peak tourist season seemed to have hit the Island right in time for the worst heat wave of the summer. He loved his job, loved the interaction with people as they filtered in and out of the shop, some to buy, some to sneak a few samples of fresh made fudge, some just curious to get a glimpse of the fudge makers working the slick mixture of chocolate over the marble slab back and forth, back and forth. Today though, between the heat and the never ending stream of people, he was ready for a small break. He leaned against one of the stores’ railings, shooting a quick wave to Claudia where she was loading up another carriage of tourists across the street at the carriage company’s Main Street kiosk. He closed his eyes, feeling the sun dancing across his face; it had been a good summer so far, once he and Myka had worked past the whole… _H.G. thing_ , things had been good. He felt good. _Really good_. Summer always made the long winter months worth it, and this summer was no different.

He cracked his eyes back open, drawing a long pull from the root beer dangling between his fingers. He was debating calling Kelly quickly, checking in to see if she wanted to go out once both of them were off their shifts. They hadn’t had a date night in awhile, and they could use one. Just as he went to pull his phone from his pocket, his eyes were drawn further down the street, trying to process just what he was seeing, _certain_ that he wasn’t seeing what he thought he was. 

Jeannie and Warren Bering were tugging their luggage down the sidewalk, both looking overheated and exhausted, sweat pouring down their faces. Pete’s forehead crinkled in confusion as he pushed off the porch and started a quick jog down the street. When he caught up to them, they didn’t even seem to notice him, until he was standing directly in their path, preventing them from moving further. He put a delicate hand against Jeannie’s shoulder, “Hey, uh, Mr. and Mrs. Bering, what’s with the suitcases? What’s with the suitcases without a _taxi_? It’s ninety-five degrees out.”

“We’re leaving.” Warren’s voice was clipped, cold, unyielding. He attempted to step around Pete, “And we’re going to miss our ferry.”

Pete took a stumbling step backwards, trying to keep himself in front of them, “Wait, what? You’re _leaving_? Why? I thought you were leaving Saturday. Is everything ok? Is Tracy ok?”

“Tracy is fine, Pete. Please, just let us go.” Jeannie looked as though she was on the brink of tears, her voice cracked and hollow as she avoided Pete’s gaze.

“I’m pretty sure I can’t just _let you go_. Does Myka know you’re leaving?”

A scoff raked through Warren’s throat as Jeannie quietly murmured, “Yes, she does.”

Pete’s eyes darted between the two of them, trying to figure out what they _weren’t_ saying. He knew something had happened, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out _what_. “Why are you leaving?”

“You know why, Pete.” Warren’s voice was laced with heat, with an anger that Pete had never experienced being thrown in his direction from Myka’s father. Warren pointed a finger hard into Pete’s chest, “I’ve always treated you like a _son_ , and you _knew_ this and never told us! You’ve known since you were, what? _Sixteen_! And you didn’t think we deserved to know?”

Realization dawned hard and fast in Pete’s chest, his heart thumping heavily with immediate worry about where Myka was, _how_ Myka was. 

As he tried to find the right words to say, Warren’s voice continued berating his ears, “Every damn person on this Island knows, but not her parents. Being lied to, for years. Ridiculous, ungrateful, ruining her life…”

The bubble of rage that Pete always felt around Myka’s parents, the bubble that he fought desperately to keep dormant, burst, and he didn’t give a damn if every single person on the street could hear him, “Oh _shut up_ , Mr. Bering.”

Warren’s eyes widened in shock, “ _Excuse me_?”

“You heard me. You don’t get to say that about her, you don’t get to say a goddamn word about her. She owes you _nothing_! Look at you, you find out your daughter _loves_ someone and you storm off this Island faster than you can blink because oh no, heaven forbid that someone is a _woman_. Jesus, get off your fucking high horse. Myka is hands down, without a doubt, the best person I know. She’s smart as hell, she loves way more than she should, and she has wanted nothing more than for your disaster of a relationship to work, and since she was a _kid_ you have treated her like shit. You deserved to know? _No._ You didn’t. When it comes to her and her life, you deserve nothing. You think _I_ should have told you? Me? The man who has watched the way you treat her since we were five years old? No way in hell. First of all, it’s not my place to tell anyone about Myka’s life, that’s her call, it was always her decision about when and how and to whom she came out, not mine. Second of all, there was no way I was telling your Bible thumping ass anything that would end up getting Myka hurt. She owes you nothing and neither do I.”

“I expected this from _her_ , Pete, but not from you,” Warren’s face was flushed red, his breath coming in short bursts.

“Yeah, and that’s because you don’t know any of us at all. You never have.” Pete took a step back and away from them, leaving them room to walk, “Jesus, get the hell out. Get off this Island, it’s our _home_ , and we sure as hell don’t need you here.”

Warren jerked his suitcase behind him, pulling it over a crack in the sidewalk, causing it to jostle in his haste to leave, “You all are…”

“Yeah, we know what we are, Mr. Bering. You two are the only people who don’t approve of that, and none of us really give a damn.” Pete jerked his chin towards the docks, “Better hurry, the ferry’s going to leave and God knows one more minute on this Island is probably too much for you.”

The Berings pushed past Pete, their steps coming even faster than when he first saw them. He watched their backs disappear into the crowd before running at full speed back to the store. He rushed behind the counter, grabbing his stuff, pleading a family emergency to his boss, who, thankfully, without question, let him leave. His bike wove around tourists with reckless abandon, his calves straining with the effort to push up the Grand hill as fast as he could. He came to a screeching halt in front of Myka’s house, dropping his bike in the grass, and leaping all the steps of the porch, banging on the door as hard as he could, “Mykes! Mykes! Open up!” The only sound that reached his ears was the sound of Trailer barking. He groaned, pulling his keys from his pocket and fishing for the one to Myka’s house. He pushed inside, yelling as he went, “Mykes!” 

The house was utterly, entirely, woefully empty. He checked every room just in case, checked the back porch, even peered over the back fence to check Wolly’s yard. Nothing. No one. Trailer’s paw came up and scratched at the back of his leg with a soft whine. Distractedly, Pete rubbed Trailer’s head. _Where was she?_

His phone buzzed quietly in his pocket, barely loud enough to be noticed. He fumbled it out, hoping, _praying_ it was Myka, but it wasn’t, it was his mom.

_I’ve got her._

Those three simple words brought a flood of relief into Pete’s chest. He should have known. Of course, Myka would have gone to his mom. He sank onto one of Myka’s porch chairs, head in his hands, at least she was safe. That’s what mattered. Trailer came up between his knees, nudging his hands. Pete chuckled, dropping kiss to Trailer’s head, “I know, bud, you’re worried too.”

As Pete sat there, the rhythm of his hand running across Trailer’s ears lulled a reflection from the back of his mind… _H.G._ For as much as he felt an internal pull to be the one to take care of Myka in this situation, he realized…that wasn’t necessarily his job, his place. More than anything, Pete recognized that Myka was going to need H.G. tonight, more than she needed him, more than she needed his mom, she was going to need that reminder, that assurance that this was _worth it_ ; she had something worth fighting for. As he took his phone out of his pocket, he worried that he was overstepping, yet he knew Myka needed H.G. to be there, even if she wasn’t sure how to ask for that yet. Hesitantly, he typed out a message, aiming for subtlety, not wanting to say more than he should.

_Hey HG…so…Mykes has had a bit of a rough day…  
I know she’s probably told you…but I just…well…if she hadn’t…she’s going to need you…_

He paused, thumbs primed to keep typing, even though he wasn’t sure how exactly to say what he really needed to say, what he _wanted_ to say. Finally, he just let instinct take over.

_And I’m grateful as hell that she has you._

Immediately, dots appeared on Pete’s phone. He glanced at the time at the top of his screen, H.G. would have been right in the thick of dinner prep, so the fact that she had her phone with her, that she was responding so quickly, he hoped that meant Myka had already called her. H.G.’s message popped up on his screen.

_While I don’t have all the details, she did tell me her parents left._  
I’ll be out of work as soon as I possibly can tonight.  
Have you seen her? 

_No…I only know because I ran into her parents on their way out of town.  
I came up to the house, but she’s at my mom’s._

_She said she was going to Jane’s, which I think is good.  
Her parents should consider themselves lucky that they ran into you rather than me._

_I don’t know if they’d see it that way…I told them off…right in the middle of Main Street._

_Good for you.  
Thank you…for that…and for reaching out…I appreciate it, Pete._

_You’re welcome…the way I figured, you were the person that needed to know._

_I’ll take care of her…I promise._

_I know you will._

Pete tossed his phone down next to him, letting out a small sigh of relief. He reclined back in the chair, dragging a hand down his face. Trailer hopped onto the chair next to him, shifting and unexpectedly licking directly below his chin. Pete chuckled, distractedly wiping at his eyes; he had no idea why but he felt tears building behind his eyes. He couldn’t tell if it was simply born out of anger and worry or if it was because he was thankful that Myka had H.G. in her life. He took a deep breath letting it out slowly. Somehow, he knew…it was both.

**

“What are the chances that your parents missed the ferry and I still have time to go down there and let them know _exactly_ what I’m thinking,” Jane bit out, fingers gripped tightly around her glass of wine.

A watery chuckle escaped Myka’s throat involuntarily, “I have a feeling even if they missed it, they would have jumped in the damn lake and swam to shore just to get out of here, just to get away from me…and my horrible decisions, my hellfire and damnation life.” Myka’s voice tailed away, her attempt at sarcasm dying in her throat as her eyes burned with a fresh wave of tears.

“Oh honey…” Jane sat her glass down and pulled Myka into a hug, pressing a firm kiss to her temple, “Your life…” She shifted to hold Myka at arms’ length, hands gripped assuredly around her shoulders, eyes never straying from Myka’s. Smiling warmly, she said, “Your life is _wondrous_. I have watched you grow up right before my eyes. I have seen you go from that gangly teenager who never took shit from my son, to a miraculous woman who reminds me of her grandparents every single day. Your life is _yours_ , and it is a beautiful thing, and I realize that I am not your mother…however…let me just say, I am proud of you, so _damn_ proud of you.”

Myka pulled Jane to her and squeezed her tightly, a small gasp mixed with a sob bubbling up from her throat, “Thank you.”

Jane ran a hand down the back of Myka’s head, “My dear girl…no thanks needed. This is what I’m here for…this is what mothers _are_ for.”

“I love you,” Myka whispered.

Jane gave Myka another quick squeeze, “I love you too, always.”

**

Hesitantly, Helena checked the door knob to Myka’s house, uncertain whether or not Myka was home yet, or still at Jane’s. It gave easily beneath her palm and she stepped gingerly into the house, expecting to be greeted immediately by the clatter of Trailer’s nails on the floor, of his paws at her knees, yet all she was greeted with was silence and the subtle light cascading into the kitchen from the back porch. She set her bag on the couch, the relief of its weight from her shoulders doing nothing to eliminate the heaviness that she’d felt like she had been carrying with her from the moment Myka had texted her, the heaviness of worry, of anxiety, of fear, of wondering if somehow this was all her fault. She maneuvered through the house with well placed steps, her entire body already intimately aware of the layout, her feet telling her what her heart already knew, this space was coming dangerously close to feeling like _home_. She knew that the darkness should indicate that Myka wasn’t here, and yet, Trailer’s absence coupled with an overwhelming _feeling_ that she couldn’t place, told her Myka was somewhere in the house. 

The porch door was slightly ajar, letting a soft breeze drift into the house, the coolness cascading across Helena’s face. She peeked through the glass of the door and immediately felt the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, flood out of her chest. 

Myka was reclined back in one of the lounge chairs, eyes completely focused on the sky, on the utterly cloudless, picture perfect sprawl of stars across the darkness. Trailer was nestled next to her, head in her lap as Myka’s nails dragged across his head. Helena felt a small smile tug at her lips, Trailer was usually entirely attuned to any presence in his house, the fact that he hadn’t left Myka’s side despite the fact that he probably heard the front door close showed how acutely aware he was that Myka needed him. Helena leaned against the door jamb, somehow, despite knowing that this was _exactly_ where she needed to be, unable to disturb what seemed to be a peaceful moment. She didn’t want to jar Myka out of whatever thoughts were keeping her occupied, didn’t want to intrude on what she knew was most likely the calmest Myka had felt all day.

“You know, you don’t have to hover back there.” Myka’s voice danced into Helena’s ears with more playfulness, more lightness than Helena had expected.

Helena chuckled delicately, stepping fully onto the porch, “And here I thought I was being subtle.”

“Trailer barked when he heard the door.”

“Ever the watchful guard dog,” Helena patted his side affectionately as he turned his head slightly with a soft thump of his tail, a small acknowledgment of Helena’s presence and his happiness that she was there before he turned his attention back to Myka. Helena’s eyes strayed down to the bottle at her feet, nudging against the glass carefully, “Bad day scotch, I see.”

Myka took a delicate sip from the tumbler in her hand, “I think today well and truly qualified for its consumption.”

“Is there enough left in that bottle for two?”

Despite the fact that Myka still hadn’t met Helena’s eye, her focus remaining adamantly on the skies, she laughed softly, pointing down next to the bottle, “There’s an extra glass down there with your name on it.”

Helena knelt down and poured herself a hefty two fingers. She stood and took a swift sip, letting it burn down her throat. As the liquid warmed its way through her chest she placed two fingers against Myka’s shoulder, pushing slightly, encouraging Myka to sit forward and create enough space for Helena to slide in behind her. 

Myka shifted willingly, as did Trailer, giving Helena enough room to position herself comfortably in the chair. Helena’s hand pulled against Myka’s shoulder lightly, drawing Myka back and into her chest, wrapping a light arm around her waist. She kissed Myka’s temple delicately, “So…it seems you’ve had quite the day…”

Involuntary laughter bubbled from Myka’s throat, jostling them both, “Yeah…you could say that.”

“I am so very sorry, my love.”

It was that one small word, that one, tiny syllable that finally got Myka to fully turn and actually look at Helena, and the second that she did she was entirely unable to stop her tears, which had finally ceased, from starting again.

“Oh darling…” Helena leaned over the arm rest and put her glass back on the deck so she could fully wrap both arms round Myka’s waist, nestling her head next to Myka’s and holding her as tightly as she could. She didn’t say anything else, couldn’t figure out what the right words would be, wondered if they even existed, and decided that for the moment, this might be the one thing that Myka needed…just them…like this.

Eventually, Myka’s breathing which had turned ragged and heavy, evened out and she shifted carefully, returning to her previous position of reclining back against Helena’s chest. With a self-deprecating laugh, she wiped at her eyes feverishly, “This is so stupid. I shouldn’t be _crying_ …”

Helena’s mouth opened to speak, to give Myka a litany of justifications for her feelings, but before one solitary word could form on the tip of her tongue, Myka kept speaking, her words picking up with speed and heat.

“This is what I’ve always said I wanted…to just be _free_ of them, to not feel like I was constantly lying to them about my life, about _everything_ , and God…they were _awful_ , more awful than I think I ever anticipated them being, so I shouldn’t _care_. I’ve always known they felt this way, I’ve always known that if they found out it would be disastrous, so I should have been prepared. Shit…I feel like I should be _happy_ , because it’s over… _finally_ …but all day, all day all I’ve felt is numb.” She sighed, the ice in her tumbler rattling, “Then again, maybe that’s just the scotch actually working. And who knows…maybe I was wrong in thinking this is what I wanted…”

Helena carded her fingers through Myka’s curls, “I think it’s very possible to want to be free of everything they have put you through while also still wanting them in your life…”

“I just…it’s so stupid, but I thought…I thought that maybe…when it all did eventually come out, because I knew it would at some point…I just thought that maybe they’d just see me as their _daughter_ and not…not as some disappointment that is going to burn in hell.”

“It’s not stupid. In no realm of this world is it stupid to want your parents to just love you for who you are.”

“After today, I’m pretty damn certain that’s _never_ going to happen.”

Helena swallowed thickly, entirely unaccustomed to hearing such bitter rage and pain in Myka’s voice. Delicately, she placed a kiss to the back of Myka’s head, “I wish…I wish with all my heart that I could tell you that they don’t matter, that they should mean nothing to you, but that would be entirely disingenuous and it would sound as if I didn’t care how you were feeling right now. What I will say, is that you, Myka Bering, are in no realm of the word a disappointment. You are a woman whom I have yet to find adequate words for, you are a woman that each and every bloody day takes my breath away simply because of who you are, you are a woman worth jumping off a cliff for, and,” she smirked into Myka’s hair, “if you’re parents think you’re going to burn in hell, well, at least we’ll be there together.”

Laughter, Myka’s _real_ laughter, not the hollow and fake version that Helena had heard earlier in the evening, rang out into the silence of the night. She tilted her head back, a genuine smile on her face as she curved a hand around Helena’s neck drawing her down into a soft kiss, “Thank you for that.”

“You’re quite welcome, though it is nothing short of the truth. _You_ are incomparable, and I will tolerate nothing and no one making you feel otherwise.”

“It’s a good thing my parents didn’t meet you, I’m not sure that they would have known what to do with someone defending me quite so adamantly.”

“I’m fairly certain that Pete put up a strong enough cause for both of us,” Helena commented idly, reaching down to retrieve her scotch.

Myka sat up so fast that she jostled Helena’s hand enough to slosh scotch all over the deck, “Pete? What on earth did Pete do and how do _you_ know that he did it?”

Helena grimaced, she had no idea that Pete hadn’t said anything to Myka. She had assumed, erroneously apparently, that Pete would have checked in at Jane’s while Myka was there, or at least sent her a text telling her what had happened. She sat up slightly, catching her thumb which was dripping with scotch between her lips, giving her an extra second to think what to say. Eventually, she just sighed and said what she knew, “Pete had texted me earlier. He…he ran into your parents on their way out of town. I don’t know the details, but he said that he had told them off right in the middle of Main Street. Here,” Helena dug her phone out of her pocket, pulling up their text thread from earlier and handing her phone to Myka.   
She watched as Myka’s eyes raced across the phone screen.

Myka handed the phone back to Helena with a sigh, “I cannot even begin to imagine what he said to them…”

“Nothing that they didn’t deserve I’m sure.” Helena tucked her phone back into her pocket, her eyes diverting away from Myka’s, “I was rather surprised that he reached out…”

Myka’s eyebrows shot up, “Yeah…that’s…that is a bit of a surprise, but then again, Pete rarely does the expected thing so…” She shot Helena a smirk, “Your charm seems to be working.”

“And here I thought that it only worked on you.”

Myka’s smile dissolved into something softer, a bit sadder, “I do agree with him on one thing in particular.”

“What’s that, love?”

“I’m grateful I have you too. You gave me something worth fighting for today. The whole time that my dad was going at me, I just kept thinking about you, about how this was worth it, more than worth it.”

Helena grimaced, “That does help assuage my guilt a bit, I must say.”

“Guilt? What on earth do you have to be guilty for?”

Helena rolled her eyes, “I just…I keep thinking if I hadn’t been so damn adamant about seeing you, if I hadn’t brought you lunch, if I hadn’t…”

Myka cut off Helena’s train of thought with a kiss that caught Helena entirely off guard with its heat and pressure. It was several long moments before Myka pulled away, fire blazing behind her eyes, “No. Don’t even think it, because this is, in no way, shape, or form, your fault.”

“Myka…”

“Nope. I won’t hear it, Hel. There is no scenario here that ends up with me blaming you for what happened today.”

A small smirk toyed at the edge of Helena’s lips. 

“What?” Myka asked cautiously.

“It’s just the first time you’ve called me that. Hel.”

Myka frowned slightly, “Sorry…I know that’s kind of Wolly’s thing, it just slipped out…”

“No, no,” Helena gripped Myka’s hand with a shy smile, “it’s nice. It feels…oddly intimate, I don’t know how to explain it…”

A soft tinge of pink graced Myka’s cheeks, “You’re very cute when you get flustered, you know that, right?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about being called cute…”

Myka chuckled, leaning forward, “Take the compliment, Nerd.”

“And now we’re back to _that_ nickname…”

Myka brushed her lips carefully against Helena’s, “Complaints?”

“None whatsoever,” Helena breathed.

“Good,” Myka breathed against Helena’s lips.

For a few brief moments, for one quiet interlude Myka could pretend that the rest of the day hadn’t happened, that everything about today had been normal. She’d had lunch with her girlfriend, spent the afternoon with Jane, and was now here, enjoying the quiet warmth of the night, under the stars with Helena. There was no need to contemplate the pain, to think about the way that her chest still felt tight, how her eyes still burned with more tears wanting to be shed. For just a few seconds she could focus on Helena, on them, on why all of this _was_ worth it.

She pulled away carefully, barely shifting her lips from Helena’s, “Thank you for being here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, love.”

**

Helena idly glanced at her watch, feeling the chill of its metal against her skin. Her eyes widened at the reality her entire body had been trying to tell her with all of her muscles aching with exhaustion and a small headache building in the middle of her forehead. It was after one in the morning, and yet they were still out on the deck, huddled under a blanket that Myka gone inside several hours before to retrieve. The thin fabric was doing little to fight against the sharpness that was starting to invade the air, but Myka seemed utterly disinclined to move, to go to bed, to do anything really.

Finally, with the thought of how egregiously early her alarm was going to go off, Helena ran idle fingertips down Myka’s arm, placing a kiss behind Myka’s ear, “Love…are you tired?”

Myka sighed heavily, shifting with a soft groan, “I am…I just…I have no idea if I can sleep. My brain feels like it’s spinning and for the last hour and a half I’ve just been trying to convince myself to stop thinking, and that only makes it worse. I just feel so…hopeless…”

Smoothing Myka’s hair back from her forehead, Helena placed another kiss to her ear, quietly contemplating her next words carefully. She swallowed thickly, her tongue heavy with scotch and exhaustion; she had no idea if what she wanted to say was going to make any sense, but she was so damn tired, she had to try. Her fingers toyed with Myka’s delicately, her voice feeling like an intrusion on the night no matter how softly she tried to speak, “You know…I haven’t talked to my father since I came out…”

Myka’s head jerked back to look at her, unexpected confusion knit across her brows, “What?”

A sad, thin smile played at the corners of Helena’s mouth, “Quite the non-sequitar I know…”

“No, no, it’s just…you talk to your mom every day, I just figured…”

“I know…I don’t…” Helena cleared her throat roughly, her mind awash with memories she usually kept locked safe in a never to be explored section of her brain. “I don’t talk about it much, but given the circumstances…” She sighed, rubbing forcibly at the strong throbbing behind her eyes, “I’m not explaining this particularly well. It’s rather that I just…I want you to know that you’re not alone, that I know, _intimately_ , what this feeling is.”

Somehow comforted by the distraction and desperate to know what it was causing so much pain to play behind Helena’s eyes which were usually alight with curiosity and joy, Myka felt something shift within her chest and settle in a way it hadn’t since her parents had arrived. She traced a finger across Helena’s knit brow, “What happened?”

“I don’t want you thinking that I’m trying to garner sympathy or compare or…”

“ _Hel_ …tell me.”

“I was sixteen and…simultaneously too smart and too stupid for my own good. Headstrong, I suppose.”

“Yeah, not like I can imagine _that_ ,” Myka teased gently.

Helena arched a delicate brow, “Precisely.” She reached down for her abandoned scotch, emptying the now warm remnants with a grimace, “There was a school dance in the spring, and while I’d known, known somehow for as long as I could remember, that I was attracted to girls, I had never _done_ anything about it, until that dance. I wanted to ask this girl in my class to go with me, and I knew I couldn’t keep that from my parents, didn’t want to really. Again, headstrong and _stupid_. I didn’t even think about it, I just _told them_ , as though it was the most natural thing for me to say over dinner, and of course, it should have been, and to my mother, it was. She took it entirely in stride, telling me we should try and coordinate our dresses if she said yes.” Helena’s voice tapered off, her fingers shaking slightly at the memory.

“You don’t have to tell me, Helena.”

“No,” Helena shook her head fiercely, blinking hard to stem her threatening tears. “I hadn’t even noticed that my dad hadn’t said anything. I was so wrapped up in all the questions my mom was asking, getting more excited by the second, until something snapped. He slammed his glass down on the table so hard it shattered. He said…horrible things. Things I won’t repeat because I’m sure you heard the same things today. He wanted to throw me out, my mother wanted to throw him out.”

“Did she?”

Helena shrugged, “Somewhat. He moved into the pool house. In the end…it all evened out a bit because of Wolly. My father loved him enough to know how much Wolly needed me. My mother knew how much Wolly needed _somewhere_ in his life to be stable. So…we adapted, but my father never said another word to me, and still hasn’t. For a long time, I thought that moment would define me, that it _had_ to, until one day I realized it had nothing to do with _my life_. That moment didn’t define _me_ , it defined _him_. It changed nothing about who I was and how I wanted to live.”

Myka swiped at her eyes, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks, “So…how was the dance?”

A dreamy kind of grin overtook Helena’s face, chasing away the shadows of demons that had lingered along its edges, “It was spectacular…”

“There’s nothing like finding your first love…” 

Helena pulled Myka closer with a small shrug, “I don’t know…finding your last one…well…I’m still trying to find the right word for that one.”

Myka felt a soft flush cascade through her cheeks, “Yeah…well…I’m sure you’ll find one at some point.”

“Oh I will. Headstrong, remember?”

Myka rolled her eyes, “How could I forget?” She pulled Helena into her, parting her lips easily on a shared breath before leaning back and whispering, “Let’s go to bed.”

**

“I…I thought…” Myka could barely think clearly enough to form words, let alone make her neurons fire in the right way to actually _speak_ them. She felt Helena’s smirk against her pulse, felt the movement of Helena’s words against her skin more than she heard them.

“You thought what?”

Myka shifted, arching her back, feeling the weight and pressure of Helena’s body above her move with the rhythm, “You…you…seemed…tired…” Myka couldn’t fight the gasp that fled her lungs as Helena’s fingers continued to move slowly within her, the steady push and pull somehow keeping her tethered to the moment while she simultaneously felt like she was no longer aware of anything else around her accept for Helena’s touch, soft, yet firm, reassuring, but demanding, demanding Myka to focus on nothing else but _them_ , but _this_.

Helena’s teeth playfully nipped and tugged at Myka’s earlobe, “I was…I’m not anymore.”

“Why not?”

The only response Myka received was the deep press of Helena’s lips on hers, a silent plea to just _stay with her_ , to stop talking and simply _be_. Something had shifted once they’d gotten into bed, Myka had actually seen something flicker in Helena’s eyes before Helena had pressed her into the sheets with a quiet, fevered determination that Myka hadn’t quite experienced before. _The last love…_ The words echoed in Myka’s mind as Helena’s hands swept over and across her body, lulling her into the safety of this feeling, this trust that nothing mattered for the moment except them. 

Myka had felt so painfully hollow all night, like something within her was reverberating with an echo that would never cease. With every pass of Helena’s hand over her body, every whisper of Helena’s breath over her skin, every curl and caress of her fingers, Myka felt that hollow ebb, felt it refill with something that wasn’t there before, something she wasn’t quite sure had _ever_ been there before. In some small, last conscious part of her mind, she wondered if that was what Helena was aiming for, if that was the flicker she had seen, the desire to make Myka _forget_ , to make her re-center, to simply make her _feel them_.

Whatever it was, as once again Myka’s breath fled her lungs on a cry mingled gasp, she knew…it was working.

**

_How this was worth it. Worth it. More than worth it._

The words beat a steady rhythm in time with Helena’s pulse as her body moved against Myka’s. It was all she could think about, how somehow they were the ones that had pulled Myka through hell and out the other side today. Helena had known she was in love with Myka, had known it for far longer than was truly sane, but something had happened tonight, something had cracked open within her forcing her to recognize that this was _it_ for her. Somehow, without even meaning to, in Myka Bering, she had found what she hoped would be well and truly her _last_ love. 

Looking at Myka as they had sank into bed, the haunted visage that still lingered just beneath the surface, the tension that still clung to the edges of her muscles, it made Helena want to pull Myka down into oblivion with her, where there weren’t any parents to disappoint, no expectations to be met, no justifications to be sounded. For a few, small, sacred moments she wanted nothing to exist but the two of them in the hopes of somehow conveying to Myka through breath and touch and sound that, yes, they were worth it. Entirely and completely more than worth it.

**

“Where are you going?” Helena’s words were thick with sleep, as she watched Myka through squinted eyelids throwing on clothes in the muted sunlight of the dawn.

Myka leaned over the mattress, combing her fingers through Helena’s impossibly _not_ sleep-tussled hair, “Go back to sleep, Nerd.”

“Myka…” Helena’s eyes recoiled at the shimmering red numbers from the alarm clock. “It’s five thirty in the morning, come back to bed.”

“I just…I have to do something this morning.” 

There was something in Myka’s tone, something soft and yet certain that urged Helena to not question any longer; her still complete and utter exhaustion didn’t help that effort either, and so she acquiesced to the kiss Myka placed on her forehead coupled with another plea to go back to sleep. She remained conscious just long enough to mutter a soft, “Be careful,” before falling back into oblivion.

Myka chuckled softly, placing another kiss to Helena’s forehead, murmuring, “I’ll see you tonight,” even though she knew Helena could no longer hear her.

**

“Since _when_ are you awake at this hour all in the name of my double chocolate muffins?” Rebecca queried with an odd quirk of her eyebrows as she handed the bag containing the still hot pastries across the counter to Myka.

Myka shrugged, clasping the bag, “Let’s just say, I owe someone a pretty significant thank you this morning, and there are few things that do that better than these.” 

Rebecca smirked, “Tell Pete I said hello and good morning for me.”

“Will do,” Myka grinned, “and I’m sure he’ll be down later for a second round.”

“I swear that man is half hobbit; second breakfast, third breakfast, tenth dinner, it’s a wonder this island doesn’t run out of food with him around.”

“God, don’t even put that out there in the universe. He’d see it as a challenge.”

Rebecca chuckled warmly, nodding towards the door, “I won’t tempt the fates, now go get those to him before they get cold.”

Myka knew the easiest thing to do would be to ride back up to Harrisonville and simply knock on Pete and Kelly’s door, but there was something in her that didn’t want to run the risk of Kelly being awake and hauling her into the house to _talk_ about everything that had happened. She didn’t want a scene. She didn’t want attention. She just wanted to see Pete, and so rather than biking back up Main Street towards town, she headed in the opposite direction, planting herself firmly on a bench facing the water, right along the path she knew Pete took every morning on his runs. She glanced at her watch; she had a few minutes before he would be there. Punctuality was generally _not_ a word that operated in any realm of Pete’s life, but when it came to his runs, he was like clockwork, perfectly timed, rarely changing routine. It was the one thing that Pete used to maintain routine and control, all part of his process to keep his life on the track he had put himself on after the summer he nearly drank himself to death. After that summer, he had realized that he needed _something_ , something to help him process his long repressed feelings about his dad, something to help him get a grip on the hurricane of chaos that more often than not swirled in his mind, something to help him _settle_ , and so he had started running, and hadn’t looked back. 

Myka quietly sipped her coffee, letting the warmth wash away the slight nip that remained in the air from the night before. Closing her eyes, she let the sound of the waves wash over her, willing them to pull out to the lake with them all of her anger, her fear, her pain. She wished more than anything that her feelings could just recede like the waters that had soothed her for her entire life, wished they could leave her with only residual drops left on the shore, soon to be washed away and replaced by the next wave. If only it was that simple…

The soft and steady smack of feet against the pavement jarred her away from the water. She looked back down at her watch…right on time. 

“Mykes…” Pete was breathless and sweaty as he stopped in front of her, forehead knit in immediate concern.

Myka held up the bag sitting next to her, “Can I tempt you to stop running and eat breakfast with me?

Pete’s eyes lit up as his hand immediately shot out for the bag, tearing it open and practically shoving his nose inside of it drawing in a deep breath, “Oh man…you are my hero and you are destroying the purpose of this run.”

“Since _when_ do you care about calories, Lattimer?”

“Hey, hey, hey, gotta keep these bad boys,” he lifted his shirt and smacked a hand against his abs, “in shape for the lady.”

“Ugh…gross.” Myka cringed, “I’m highly regretting my decision to be here this morning…”

Pete took a large bite out of his muffin, not bothering to fully swallow before speaking, “Why are you here?”

A thin smile curled at the corners of Myka’s mouth, “Like I said…I wanted to have breakfast with you.”

Pete held his free hand out to Myka, “How about we walk and eat?”

All Myka could do was nod and grip Pete’s hand as he pulled her up, suddenly, once again overwhelmed by everything that had happened over the last 24 hours, everything that Pete had done for her over the last 24 hours. 

Seeming to sense Myka’s need for stillness, for silence, Pete drew their steps along the shore, walking slowly, not saying a word, just eating his breakfast and waiting. He knew eventually she’d get there, but he wasn’t going to push her.

It took a solid ten minutes before Myka finally slipped her hand back into Pete’s with a tight squeeze, “Thank you.”

Pete didn’t bother playing it off or questioning her meaning, but simply returned her grip, “You’re welcome. I’d do it a hundred times over, without question.”

“Did you really tell them off right in the middle of Main Street?”

“Damn right I did.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“ _Yes_ , I did, Mykes. I know you don’t need me to, like, protect you or anything, or defend your honor, or…whatever, but I wasn’t going to let your dad just stand there and go at me about all of this, say what he said about all of it and not say anything.”

“Do I even _want_ to know what he said?”

“ _No_. Though, I’m sure it was nothing worse than what either of them had said to you at the house.”

“They were in _fine form_.”

“They’re assholes.”

Laughter broke out of Myka’s lungs so unexpectedly that it grated against her throat, “Yeah…yeah, that’s one way to put it.” Myka sighed heavily, feeling tears building behind her eyes, “God…I just really wish I could hate them.”

Pete untangled their fingers and slung his arm around Myka’s shoulder, “I know you do.” He squeezed her shoulder playfully, “How about I hate them for the both of us?”

Myka chuckled brokenly, “Sounds like a good deal.”

Glancing sideways, Pete could see how hard Myka was fighting to keep from crying, the way her jaw kept clenching over and over. He leaned down, dropping a kiss to her temple, “You didn’t deserve this, Myka. You deserve to be happy, and H.G. makes you happy, _being you_ makes you happy, and fuck them for trying to take that away or make you feel guilty about it.”

Myka didn’t say anything just nodded her head vigorously while turning towards the lake and swiping quickly at her eyes. Eventually, she cleared her throat roughly, “Thank you for that also, by the way.”

This time Pete was _actually_ at a loss for what Myka was referring to, “Thanks for what?”

“For texting Helena. I…I was so upset and so hurt when they left, I pretty much just sprinted to your mom’s and didn’t really give Helena much of a heads up about what was going on. I mean, _I told her_ , but I couldn’t figure out how to _tell her_ , and certainly not in a text, but just…I know you aren’t her biggest fan, so thank you for making sure that she knew, for knowing I would need her.”

“Mykes…you know that I, Pete Lattimer, am _never wrong about anything_ , however…in this instance…I was really, really fucking wrong. About the not being H.G.’s biggest fan thing. I jumped to way too many conclusions, way too fast, and didn’t give her the benefit of the doubt, but seeing you guys together, seeing how happy you are…I was an asshole. She’s great, and I’m glad you guys have each other.”

“Thank you, but believe it or not,” Myka smirked, “I might have known all of that.” Pete looked at her quizzically, causing Myka to chuckle, “She showed me your texts from yesterday.”

Myka expected Pete to backpedal, to equivocate, but his eyes never left hers, his voice didn’t waver once, “I meant it, every word. I am so fucking grateful that you have her, that she has you.”

Myka’s gaze fell back towards the horizon, images of Helena asleep in her bed that morning playing across her memory. She sighed with a hint of contentment, “I am too…”

**

“It’s utterly pointless to tell you that we’re unbelievably behind and have hundreds of mouths to feed, none of whom will be ordering tonight what you’re currently making, because it’s _not on the menu_ , because you won’t listen to me, correct?” Wolly loomed over Helena’s shoulder, watching her vigorously stirring a pot on the stove, tiny beads of sweat glistening at her temples.

“I am _well aware_ , William, of the state of the menu, the time, the reservations, _everything_ , but I _need_ to get this done,” Helena gritted out, annoyance dripping from her words. She didn’t need Wolly to tell her what she already knew, nor did she need him distracting her from the task at hand. 

“Hel…”

“Wolly! Distracting me is only going to take up more of my time, and spending time _over here_ talking to me is only going to put your half of the kitchen even further behind. I have this handled, will you trust me on that, please?”

“Ok…ok,” Wolly threw up his hands in defeat, despite the frustration that was still clenching his muscles.

Before he could walk away, Helena reached back and grabbed his wrist, lightly pulling him back and offering an apologetic smile. They’d been at each other’s throats all day, mostly from stress at the busier than usual night ahead and the ever deepening exhaustion that was becoming a constant companion as the summer went on. She squeezed her hand against his wrist, “I’m sorry. I’m snappish, and it’s because I _am_ distracted and I am tired, and I just…this,” she nodded her head towards the stove, “it’s important.”

Wolly nodded with a deep breath, wiping his free hand across the back of his neck, “I know…I know it is. I’m sorry too, for hovering, for sounding a bit too much like a boss. I get like this…end of the summer is coming.”

Helena swallowed down the lump that had risen in her throat. She had been willing her brain to not comprehend those words, _end of the summer_. She didn’t want to think about it, contemplate it, even acknowledge that it was becoming a swift, oncoming reality. It was true that it was only the end of July, but realizing that she had been on the Island for three and a half months already, realizing how quickly that time had gone, Helena knew Wolly was right. August was going to be gone in a flash and then it would be fall and then…well…she and Myka would need to _deal_ with _whatever_ fall brought. 

Glancing back at the pot on the stove, she felt her chest tighten, as much as she needed to be here _doing her job_ , she needed to do this for Myka more. She gave Wolly a small, even more apologetic smile, “I will have to sneak out for no more than twenty minutes once this is done, but I swear, service won’t be interrupted.”

Wolly shook his head, slightly dismayed before holding up his hands in acquiescence, “I’m just going to trust that you’ve got this under control and go back to my corner of the kitchen.”

“A wise choice, Will, a wise choice.”

An hour later, Helena was biking as fast as she could up the hill to Harrisonville, far too conscious of the time and how much it was interfering with the dinner service, though she couldn’t truly bring herself to care. Once at Myka’s, she shifted the box she was carrying under her arm, wrestling with her keys in order to just _get in the door_. Hastily, she said hello to Trailer and scribbled a note on the post-it she had stashed inside the box before placing the whole thing in the freezer and flying back out of the house. She glanced at her watch, she had five minutes to get back or else Wolly would never let her hear the end of it. Before she started pedaling though, she pulled out her phone and typed a quick message to Myka.

_Love…I have no idea what time I’ll be done tonight…work is…I have no better word than insane. If you fall asleep before I get in, it’s ok, just don’t forget to check the freezer…_

When she got back to the Grand she had a message from Myka.

_Putting that key to good use I see…sneaky woman._  
Don’t worry about the time…whenever it is, your side of the bed will still be open, I promise I won’t steal it.  
(I make no such promises on Trailer’s behalf though) 

Love, near suffocating, euphoria-inducing love beat into Helena’s chest with a strength that almost knocked her off of her feet. This was why she refused to acknowledge summer’s quickly coming end, she couldn’t bear the thought of this not being there. She shook the thought away, instead choosing to focus on the fact that this was also why Wolly being pissed that she had been more than twenty minutes was more than worth it. Myka would always be worth it.

**

Myka wandered into the house later than usual, choosing to take advantage of Helena’s late night by having one of her own. _Finally_ , she was caught up on every last ounce of paperwork that had piled up on her desk; for once, she was actually _ahead_ of the game, already having filled out the payroll for the end of the week and sent it out for processing. She sucked in a deep breath as she sank onto the couch, before she remembered…the freezer.

Far too excitedly than she would care to admit, she pulled out the bright yellow box that Helena had somehow managed to squeeze into what limited space was open in the freezer. When she flipped the lid open she actually heard her own breath catch in her throat, followed quickly by a burning behind her eyes. “Dammit…” she swiped at her eyelids, “I have cried _way too much_ this week.”

She pulled the post-it note from the lid and read it over and over until her vision was too blurry to process the words.

_Darling…This box is less influenced by my need to inundate you with the joys of sugar, and much more influenced by one simple thing…my desire to give you some small, happy memory to cling to, because they are there, my love. So, here’s to 8 year old you and the cake that made her happy._

Inside the box was a small enough for one, ice cream cake, just a tiny circle of homemade ice cream with what appeared to be a simple graham crust. Helena hadn’t written anything on top, just piped on a smattering of tiny, frosting flowers. 

Myka had long since reconciled herself to the fact that she was in love with Helena, yet she never ceased to be surprised that she kept finding _new_ ways to be in love with her. What she felt as she settled onto the couch, Trailer nestled on top of her feet, her mini cake on her lap, the assurance that Helena would be _home_ at some point, was far beyond any comprehensible definition of love that she knew. 

**

“You’re off on Thursday, right?” Myka mumbled into Helena’s shoulder as Helena settled beneath the covers with her that night, at far too late a time for Myka to process.

Helena’s lips caressed Myka’s forehead, the pent up tension in all of her muscles slowly releasing at the feel of Myka’s arm snaking around her waist, “I am.”

“Don’t make any plans,” Myka’s sleep worn voice whispered into the darkness.

“Duly noted, but will you actually _remember_ that you told me any of this?”

Helena felt Myka’s smile against the side of her neck, “Eidetic memory trumps being half asleep. Plus,” Myka left a small peck against Helena’s pulse, “it’s you…I always remember…” Myka took a deep breath that devolved into a yawn. She nestled further into Helena’s hold, “Oh…and thank you…for the ice cream…”

Helena went to respond, but the few seconds it took her to compose herself, to process what Myka had said and the things it had done to her heart, were all the time Myka needed to fall back asleep. Helena settled back into her pillows, pulling Myka even closer to her, letting the even echo of Myka’s breath lull her to sleep.

**

“You have a boat,” Helena stated matter-of-factly. Delicately, she took the hand Myka had proffered to her to help her step down from the dock and into the boat before eyeing Myka with slightly confused consideration, “I’ve been here for _months_ , and somehow it’s just coming out now that you have a boat.”

Myka rolled her eyes, shooting Helena an incredulous look over her shoulder as she continued to go about loosening ropes and prepping the boat to leave, “You say it like it’s some scandalous surprise that _I have a boat_. I live on an island, Nerd. I kind of need a boat.”

“Oh obviously since we’ve used it _so very much_ over the last three months.”

“Ah,” Myka smirked, “so this is you registering a complaint at said boat’s lack of use.”

“It isn’t a complaint, per se. Rather this is me being completely baffled that somehow we, _you_ , have managed to not have a reason to leave the Island all summer.”

Myka gave a non-committal shrug, though her cheeks betrayed a small tinge of pink, “Usually, I have to either head into the city or over to the U.P. to run errands every now and then, but…well, Steve and Liam have been taking care of a lot of those this summer.”

Now it was Helena’s turn to smirk, sliding her arms around Myka’s bent waist, “Should I take that blush to mean that you’ve been _avoiding_ said errands to _stay_ on the Island for some reason?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Myka refused to turn, to meet Helena’s eye, to acknowledge _anything_.

“You do realize you could have _asked_ me to accompany you on your errands?”

Myka sighed a bit despairingly, baffled that somehow Helena was getting her to admit to _any_ of this, “Yeah, I know…but sometimes it means having to stay overnight and it makes for weird hours and with your work schedule, I didn’t want to mess with that or complicate anything and Steve was willing to go and…”

“You’re rambling. You’re blushing and rambling, love, and well…it’s mildly adorable.”

Myka playfully glared at Helena, feigning offense at such a word being thrown in her direction, “Do not make me consider turning this boat around, Helena.”

“Wherever would you turn it, darling? We haven’t left dock yet.” Helena settled back in a seat, casually laying an arm across the back of the one next to her, looking for all intents and purposes utterly innocent and oblivious to Myka’s frustration, feigned or not.

Myka wanted to say something smart in return, to shoot another volley of words in Helena’s direction, but there was nothing to say, not when Helena was sitting there looking like _that_. A small smirk was tugging at the corner of her lips, dark sunglasses hiding where she was looking though her head was tilted away from Myka and towards the horizon, her shoulders, so pale when she had arrived on the Island, now lightly tanned after months spent outside, were bared to the sun, a thin black tank top barely concealing the strings of her bikini top. How was Myka supposed to respond when she was faced with that image? She let the ropes she was fiddling with drop from her hands and moved to stand in front of Helena, leaning down to place a delicate kiss to Helena’s lips, “Are you ready to get out of here, _on my boat_?”

“I am,” Helena’s smile was devastating, sparkling, “but are you truly giving up that easily?”

“What can I say?” Myka grinned. “You, Helena Wells, have found all the ways there are to wear me down.”

**

They were about halfway across the lake when Helena’s legs finally felt comfortable enough to risk standing as Myka sped them across the water. She stood carefully, taking measured, even steps until she was fully pressed up against Myka’s back, arms wrapped around Myka’s waist, her chin against Myka’s shoulder. She slipped a kiss behind Myka’s ear and did her best to speak above the rush of the water without shouting in Myka’s ear, “I’m now realizing that it probably was safer to keep me away from this boat.”

Myka turned a concerned look towards Helena, “Are you feeling ok? I know the waves are a little crazy today.”

“No,” Helena smiled softly, “I feel fine. It’s just that…” She placed another kiss to Myka’s ear, “with how you look right now? With the wind going wild with those crazy curls of yours and the sun shining like this on you…well…those errands probably wouldn’t have gotten done, since I most likely wouldn’t have let you off this boat.”

Once again, Myka’s cheeks darkened as her blood rushed fast and hard against her skin. Helena chuckled against her ear, “You’re blushing again, love.”

“Yeah, well…you have a tendency to say things that make me blush.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Helena’s voice was playful, teasing.

Myka chanced pulling her attention away from the water and towards Helena, giving herself just enough time to kiss Helena quickly, mumbling against her lips, “Never.”

**

“ _And you have a truck…_ ”

Myka palmed her forehead with an exasperated smile, “Is this whole day just going to be you pointing out the very obvious state of my possessions?”

“That depends, how many more possessions of yours have you been keeping secret?”

“Oh hundreds, I have houses up and down the coast. That’s really where I’m taking you today, on a tour of all of my vast and various secret properties.”

“You’re a nefarious woman, Myka Bering, for all I know that could be true.”

Myka rolled her eyes as she finished stowing their things in the bed of her truck. She cocked her head towards the door, “Then I guess the question is, are you going to risk your chances with a _nefarious woman_ or steal my boat and go back to the Island?”

Helena slid into the truck with a smirk, “I’ll take my chances. Lucky for you, I happen to _like_ nefarious women.”

The heavy tourist traffic of Mackinaw City soon gave way to the empty serenity of roads with nary another car to be seen, the black of the tar cutting its way smoothly through the bright and vibrant green of the trees that swarmed the roadside with such power that it made you forget there was anything beyond them.   
The day was pleasant enough that Myka forewent turning the air conditioning on and simply rolled down the windows, letting the air rush around through the car with a refreshing coolness. They drove in silence, letting the miles melt away under the tires of Myka’s truck, the inside of the cab filled with the sound of the wind and the pulsing of the speakers. 

Helena had been slightly surprised when Myka had turned the radio up almost as soon as they were clear of the city; Myka frequently had music on at the house, but always quietly in the background, never overtly obvious in its noise. Now though, the steady thrum of a classic rock station echoed through the car, occasionally mixing and mingling with the sound of Myka’s voice interweaving with the lyrics. At first, Helena had wished that they could roll the windows up, turn the radio down and just _talk_ ; she’d been so worried about Myka, and she had hoped that this time together would give her a chance to check in and she how she was truly bearing up after the events of the last few days. However, as she took in the vision that was Myka, with her arm slung out the window and the wind pushing her curls back from her face, how she couldn’t stop smiling even in the midst of her singing, Helena realized that this was the happiest, the _freest_ that she had seen Myka in days, and suddenly she didn’t mind the noise. One thing she did mind though was the abhorrent amount of space spread between them, it seemed stupid to be so annoyed by the gaping emptiness that kept them each on their own side of the truck, but Helena was finding that as the summer ticked away she was less and less inclined to be apart from Myka, even when the space between them was mere feet.

Eventually, Helena’s annoyance was not to be curbed by something as simple as a few feet and a seat belt. Waiting to insure that there were no other cars around them, even though there hadn’t been for the last twenty minutes, Helena undid her seat belt, drawing a wide-eyed stare from Myka, “What on earth are you doing?”

Helena smirked, flipping the center console up and off the middle seat and sliding into the space it had occupied so that she could settle up against Myka. She wrapped a hand around Myka’s knee with a light squeeze, “Am I not allowed to sit next to you?”

Myka rolled her eyes, despite the smile on her face, “You are, but _with a seat belt on_.”

Helena tucked one of Myka’s curls behind her ear, “My Myka, ever so cautious.”

“I don’t think asking you to, ya know, _follow the law_ , is being cautious. I’d call it practical, intelligent, and _safe_.”

Helena chuckled softly, but proceeded to extract the middle seatbelt from where it was stuck under the seat. She tucked a kiss to Myka’s cheek as she clicked it into place, “Happy?”

Myka shifted her arm which had been hanging out the window to grip the steering wheel so that she could place her other arm around Helena’s shoulders, drawing her even closer. Not allowing her eyes to drift from the road, she tucked a crooked kiss to Helena’s temple, “Very.”

“I’ve missed that smile,” Helena said as she tipped her head against Myka’s shoulder.

“Yeah…well…there hasn’t exactly been a ton of things to smile about in my little corner of the world lately.”

“I know, love.” Helena’s fingers gripped harder around Myka’s knee. Rather than keeping her knees jammed up against the dashboard, Helena shifted to stretch her legs out across the empty seat next to her, settling her back into the crook of Myka’s arm. 

Myka smiled to herself, feeling Helena settle against her side, Helena’s hair warm and ticklish beneath her jaw. She let go of the wheel for a passing second to turn the radio up a few more notches as she let her voice sing along with a little more boldness. As the music faded out, Myka cast a sideways glance at Helena, utterly sprawled across the cab of her truck, feet just barely tipped out the open window, eyes closed as she hummed along with the next song on the radio. Myka placed a light kiss to the top of Helena’s head, “Hey…”

“Yes, darling?”

“This particular corner of my world, right now? I’m not sure I’ll ever stop smiling if it stays like this.”

A small bubble of laughter escaped Helena’s throat, “I’ll have to see if I can’t keep it this way then.”

“I’d love it if you would…” Myka said it so softly Helena barely heard it. Yet, Helena caught every word, but even as she pushed further into Myka’s hold, a voice in the back of her mind worried that she was dangerously close to making promises that she wasn’t sure the coming of fall would let her keep. She strove to fight back the thoughts, force them back into the box which she had been keeping even more tightly locked over the last couple of weeks; they weren’t worth thinking about, not now, _not yet_.

**

“So…are you ever going to tell me where we are actually going today? Or are we just going to drive around until we run out of gas?”

“Oh, one hundred percent the latter. I figured what better way to take advantage of a shared day off than wasting a tank of gas driving around and getting you completely lost.” Myka threw a smirk Helena’s way before pressing down on the brakes and shooting her a wink, “We’re actually here, so you don’t have to worry that I dragged you out here with zero plans or intentions.”

“ _Intentions_ , well…I certainly like the sound of that.”

“Geez…” Myka rolled her eyes, “ _You_ have been spending way too much time with Pete.”

“ _Please never say that again…_ ”

“Stop making innuendoes like that and I might.”

“Well _that_ is _certainly not_ going to happen.”

“Then you, dear Nerd, are hopelessly screwed.”

A smirk twitched at the corners of Helena’s lips, her eyes shining with a wicked gleam, “I should be given a bloody award for just letting that one lie.”

“I’m suddenly questioning whether or not I’m going to actually be able to survive an entire day alone with you,” Myka teased as she backed the truck into a spot so that it faced the water that Helena had seemingly failed to notice.

Helena leaned over once the truck was in park and kissed Myka, lingering against her lips before pulling away, “Somehow I think you’re up to the challenge, darling.”

When they got out of the truck, Helena immediately moved to start unloading the back which was laden with blankets and beach chairs, a bag full of books and magazines and various other things Myka had thrown in to keep them occupied, on top of the picnic basket Helena had loaded with more food than she knew they could possibly eat in one day. Before she could ease the back of the cab down, Myka’s hand slipped into hers, tugging her away from the truck with a smile, “Come on, that stuff can wait a bit.”

Myka had been waiting all summer to finally get a chance to bring Helena here; she had been envisioning the look on her face when she saw the view, hoping that she would love it as much as Myka did. As they crested over the small hill and their feet finally dipped into the sand, she heard Helena give a small exhale, a whispered “wow,” rushing out on her breath.

Myka stopped their steps, taking in the beach laid out before them, completely empty of any other people; Lake Huron gently lapping onto the sand, the water shining a brilliant blue against the white sand that was woefully absent on the Island. The lighthouse of 40 Mile Point towered over the scene, its white lighthouse a stark contrast to the red brick of the building that surrounded it. Myka squeezed Helena’s hand lightly, “This has always been my favorite place in the world, other than the Island, of course. I’ve wanted to bring you here for weeks…”

“It’s beautiful.” Helena took in the view before them, her eyes roaming the beach, but finding it astonishingly empty. “How are there no other people here?”

“Hidden gem,” Myka grinned. “Most people, when they come up here either head straight for Mackinac or stay further south towards the smaller cities. If they come up here for lighthouses they usually stick to the western side of the state, so no one really pays these little beaches much attention. I think I’ve only been here maybe twice when other people have been here.”

“There’s actually sand without any rocks. Here, I thought that was an impossible dream in this state.”

Myka chuckled, “No…they’re here, they’re just woefully absent at home. I love the Island, but damn if the beaches don’t leave a little something to be desired.”

Helena shifted, turning to link her arms around Myka’s neck, a pleasant warmth blooming in her chest at how quickly Myka’s arms looped around her waist drawing her in. Helena’s fingers toyed with the delicate, soft curls at the base of Myka’s skull, eliciting a quiet murmur from Myka’s throat. She drew Myka down for a kiss that she intended to be quick, soft, damn near chaste, but which quickly devolved in something that was quite the _opposite_ of all of her intentions. When she eventually pulled away, Myka’s eyes were still closed and she was powerless to stop the words that flew out of her mouth, “This view is almost as good as the one from the bottom of this cliff we’ve jumped off of.”

A contented smile graced Myka’s lips as she slowly opened her eyes. _I love you too…_ She swallowed the words down, leaning in for another kiss before whispering, “It is a pretty damn good view, Nerd.”

**

Once they got themselves settled in a comfortable spot in the sand, the hours starting trickling away in a slow kind of bliss. The sun was warm enough to be pleasant, but not so hot that it was uncomfortable. They lazed the morning hours away in simple nothingness. They walked most of the shoreline, Myka taking Helena down to where the washed up remains of a decades old shipwreck still lingered on the shore. She loved watching Helena explore over the boards, her fingers coming down to brush over the heavy heads of the nails rendered entirely smooth by the sand and the waves. They lounged on their blankets, reading their book, playing cards, doing absolutely nothing of any consequence. 

Eventually, as Myka’s fingertips traced over Helena’s skin and found it far too warmed by the sun, she convinced Helena to actually go swimming, despite semi-adamant protests.

“These lakes are freezing, Myka.”

“We’re at the beach, we can’t just skip swimming.”

“I believe we can. We have plenty to keep us occupied _and warm_ right here on shore, without subjecting ourselves to turning into ice cubes.”

Myka shook her head, “Then that would kind of render the bathing suits and towels kind of useless.”

“If you say so,” Helena smirked devilishly, “but I, myself, am quite enjoying the view they provide, but maybe that’s just me.”

“No amount of charm _or_ flirting is going to get you out of swimming, Nerd.” Myka reached out and tugged at Helena’s hand pulling her close enough to let the water wash over their feet.

“ _Bloody hell!_ I may never forgive you for this.”

Myka encouraged Helena closer, drawing their steps backwards and further into the water, while leaning forward for a kiss, “I’ll keep you warm, I promise.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “Or I’ll go numb.”

“Always a viable option.”

Helena was powerless to resist the pull of Myka’s hands, the slow way she was urging them into the water. She looked so happy, her smile finally full and carefree. Numbness be damned, Helena would follow that smile anywhere, just to keep it on Myka’s face.

**

“Why infinity?” Helena asked. She had been laying perpendicular to Myka on the blanket, her book propped against Myka’s ankles, but she couldn’t stop staring at the stark, black swoop of ink staring at her from Myka’s skin. It wasn’t the first time she had noticed it. In fact, it had been one of the _first_ things that she had ever noticed about Myka. When Myka had found her on the porch that first night, when she’d sat down and propped her knees up on the porch rail, her jeans had crept up her ankle enough to reveal the tattoo beneath. Helena had noticed it immediately, had found it completely incongruous to the woman sitting in front of her, who seemed to be one for playing by the rules, for simplicity, for serenity, certainly not for ink permanently emblazoned into skin.

Helena had wanted to ask that night, but had abandoned the question to the realm of things not shared between strangers who had just met. There had been other times when it had crossed her mind again, but she had never asked. Most of those times were in far too intimate of situations to stall and stop in order to have a conversation, and so it had simply gone unasked. Now though, sitting on the beach with nothing but the quiet to disturb, she figured it might just be the perfect time to ask.

“What?” Myka had been buried in her book, almost too focused to realize that Helena had said something, let alone lucky enough to hear what she had asked.

Helena smiled warmly, amused by Myka’s utter immersion in the book now resting against her chest. Helena reached a finger out and traced the ink with her fingertip, “Why infinity?”

A serene smile overwhelmed Myka’s face, “Ah, that. You know…I’ve been wondering if you were ever going to ask that question.”

“Yes, well, usually when the thought crosses my mind, I’m a bit too preoccupied with _other things_ to spare the time for a question.”

Myka’s only response to _that_ was to arch an eyebrow and smirk before sitting up and trailing her fingers along the path Helena’s had just taken over her tattoo. “I got it after Pap and Gram died…it was sort of a _thing_ with us. When I was little, I used to always ask Gram how much she loved me, I would ask her _relentlessly_ , mostly because I always liked to hear her answer. She would always tell me that she loved me to infinity. At first, I had no idea what she meant, but one day she sat me down and drew the symbol and showed me that it had no beginning and no end, but just kept going and going and going. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, and who wouldn’t want a grandma that loved them like that? Pap eventually picked up on it too, and it just sort of stuck. It was the last thing she said to me…and the second I went home after everything, I got this. I wanted a permanent reminder that someone, more than one someone, had loved me like that.” Myka leaned her cheek against her knee, peering at Helena looking up at her. She crinkled her nose slightly, “Does that sound wildly pathetic?”

“No, my love,” Helena said, inching forward to leave a delicate kiss to the symbol on Myka’s skin. “I think it might actually be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.”

“I kind of think so too. It was how they loved each other, and it’s how they loved me. Who wouldn’t want that reminder?”

_She wants a love like her grandparents had._

Wolly’s words resounded through Helena’s brain. A love to infinity, that’s what Myka wanted. If Helena was honest with herself, she wanted nothing more than to give that to her, because somehow in a matter of months _that’s_ how Helena had fallen in love with Myka…she had fallen to infinity.

**

“God…I have no idea how I haven’t gained at least ten pounds having you around this summer,” Myka commented as she pulled a seemingly never-ending stack of containers out of the cooler Helena had packed.

Helena smirked at her over the lip of her beer, “I believe I’ve been providing ample exercise for you to compensate.” She was rewarded by the tips of Myka’s ears going a perfect shade of pink.

“I walked right into that one,” Myka sighed.

“That you did, but would you ever _really_ want me to stop?”

Myka rolled her eyes, refocusing her attention on the cooler’s contents before quietly muttering, “You know I wouldn’t.”

Helena smiled triumphantly, taking another pull from her beer, but at least giving Myka the courtesy of not looking at her when she responded evenly, “That’s what I thought, darling.”

**

As the afternoon wore on, Helena felt herself being pulled into a contented drowsiness. The sound of the waves and Myka’s softly turning pages filled her ears, lulling her into that space between awareness and dreams. She barely had enough consciousness left to recognize that Myka had turned on her phone, letting it carry gentle music around them. Helena couldn’t place the song that was playing, but she heard acutely every word that Myka sang, letting Myka’s voice pull her deeper and deeper into unconsciousness. Before she fully gave herself over to sleep she murmured, “I like it when you do that…”

“When I do what?” Myka’s voice was soft, and Helena could hear the smile in it without having to open her eyes.

“Sing. You do it more than you realize, I think.”

“That’s slightly embarrassing since my voice is _definitely not_ one of my talents.”

“Hush…” Helena slid closer to Myka on the blanket, once again closing her eyes. “Just keep singing…”

The sound of Myka’s soft chuckling filled Helena’s ears and she felt Myka leave a gentle kiss to her temple right before she gave herself over to sleep.

**

Helena was pulled out of sleep by a heavy breeze blowing sand all over her face. She jerked awake with a body shaking sneeze and attempted to get her bearings. For a brief moment, she couldn’t remember where she was, having been so utterly asleep the jarring return to reality was clouding her memory. She propped herself up on her elbows, stretching her neck where her muscles ached for being immobile in the same position for far too long. 

When she had fallen asleep, Myka had been next to her, propped up on a stack of towels reading her book, a hand laid against the back of Helena’s thigh, but even before she turned to look, Helena knew that Myka was no longer there. She sat up stiffly, eyes readjusting to the brightness of the sun glinting off the water, scanning the horizon for wherever Myka had gone. 

It only took Helena a few moments to find her. Myka was sitting atop a large rock that jutted starkly out of the water about ten feet from shore. Helena could see the waves lapping at her ankles, her knees drawn up tight to her chin, her back turned away from the beach, completely oblivious to anything but the water in front of her. It took several long minutes for Helena to actually stir herself to move, to do anything to disturb the scene before her. Myka looked so at peace; for the first time in more days than Helena could count, Myka’s shoulders weren’t clenched in tension, her fingers weren’t a restless riot of twisted fidgeting. She looked like herself, and that image did more to dispel the worry that had taken up permanent residence in Helena’s chest than anything Myka could have actually said. 

Finally, Helena urged herself back into the water, sucking in a sharp breath at the heightened cold of the water against her overly warmed skin. The water was shallow enough that she could have walked the whole way to Myka, but instead she slipped into the water, skimming her knees against the rocky bottom, simply to let the cold wash entirely over her body, rather than have to endure the water washing up and striking still warm parts of her skin over and over. 

Before she’d even reached the rock, Myka glanced at her over her shoulder with a smile that made Helena’s chest tighten more than the cold of the water. “Sleeping Beauty finally awakes.”

Helena swam the last few lengths, coming to stand in front of where Myka was perched above her. She tugged carefully on Myka’s ankles, unbending Myka’s legs so that she could run her damp fingers up over Myka’s knees, pushing against the muscles of her thighs, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Myka, “Your fingers are fucking freezing.”

“This lake is bloody freezing. We’ve been over this a thousand times already today,” Helena teased.

“Are you numb yet?”

“Completely.”

Myka grinned, “I told you that you’d get there.”

Helena leaned forward, placing a kiss to the inside of Myka’s knee before resting her chin on top of it, “Have you been out here the whole time I’ve been asleep?”

“No, only the last fifteen minutes or so.”

“You could have woken me up.”

Laughter, bright, dancing, loud laughter fled Myka’s lungs, “Oh _no_ , Nerd, I couldn’t have. You were completely out. At one point I actually put more sunscreen on your back and you didn’t even flinch.”

Helena felt her cheeks flush a bit, “I think the hours are starting to catch up with me.”

Myka nodded with a soft smile, dancing her fingertips along Helena’s jaw, “They always do. It’s usually around this point in the summer that we all start debating whether we’re actually insane for doing this every year.”

“Well, I think there are several other reasons for your collective insanity, but yes, the hours, are most definitely one of them.”

Myka chuckled, “Yeah, but the summers give us days like this too, so I can’t really say that I’m complaining.” 

Helena hummed in assent, tucking another kiss to Myka’s knee. She went to say something, but Myka’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Ya know…it’s funny, when we were little Tracy and I used to race each other out to this rock. The water levels were so much higher that this thing used to be entirely covered by water. We would be laughing so hard we could hardly swim, but we’d always get out here, clamber up, and demand our parents took our picture. We have one from every year…”

Helena had seen those pictures. They were hanging in the hallway of Myka’s house, and she’d always wondered what the story was behind them. She almost said just that, but swallowed back her words. Myka’s voice sounded so wistful, and Helena knew that there was something more beneath them then just nostalgia and sharing memories, so she just let her keep talking.

“I can’t remember the last time we were all here. Probably not since I was in middle school, after that it kind of became just my place. In college, during the summer, this is always where I’d come to get away, have a little time to myself. Hell, I remember once, I drove up here from Ann Arbor right in the middle of the semester because I was feeling totally overwhelmed and just needed a little piece of _this_ to get me through. Gram was so pissed when she found out. It didn’t matter that I needed to get back for class, I should have called and gone to see them. Every time I come, I notice the little things that keep changing, the shore, the water levels, the way the sand feels, how close this damn rock is to shore now…everything keeps changing…”

Helena knew that for certain that those three words encapsulated far more of Myka’s world at the moment than just how close one rock was to the sand. Those three words…they were her parents, the summer, Pap and Gram…they were even, Helena hated to admit it, _them_. Their relationship had changed so much about Myka’s life and its even, steady summer rhythm. Helena smoothed her hand down Myka’s calves, reaching beneath the water to wrap her hands around Myka’s ankles, “Not all change is bad, darling.” It came out more as a question, than a statement.

Myka smiled softly, eyes tracking to Helena’s and reading there what Helena had been thinking, how _they_ had been such an immense change. Carefully, Myka shifted, slipping down off the rock and into the water. She looped her arms underneath Helena’s thighs, lifting her easily so that Helena could wrap her legs around her waist. Myka kissed her lightly, “Change is _definitely not_ all bad…I’ve just…I’ve never been one to handle it well, good or bad.”

“You seem to be handling me quite well at the moment,” Helena smirked.

Myka rolled her eyes, despite the blush that crept into her cheeks, “Smooth, Nerd, _smooth_.”

“Thank you, I quite thought so myself.” Helena pressed a kiss to Myka’s forehead, “Change has a remarkable way of bringing us where we need to be, though it never guarantees that the journey to get there will be easy.”

“I know,” Myka nodded, feeling tears burning at the backs of her eyes. She knew Helena was right. Every change that her life had gone through, no matter how painful at the time, had brought her to a deeper level of certainty that she was where she was meant to be; leaving home, coming out, everything with Pap and Gram, Helena, even Sam, even Abigail, they’d brought her where she needed to be. She could only hope that the pain, the hurt that her parents had caused would turn out to do the same thing. She sighed, “I think it’s going to take me a little bit of time to get used to this change…”

“You’re well deserving of that time, love, but you will get there.”

Myka nodded once again, but didn’t say anything. All she could do was hang on to Helena and stare out over the lake that had been one of the few steady constants in her life, even if its levels and its shores changed. The waters gentle lapping around them seemed to whisper a promise to Myka, that even if it shook her, even if her knees bent, it would never knock her down, it would _always_ leave her something solid to stand on.

**

The wind picked up slightly as the sun started its slow descent towards the horizon. Helena glanced at her phone, they had maybe an hour of daylight left if they were lucky. She sighed wistfully, she wasn’t ready for this day to be over. It had been perfect, just the two of them, with nothing hanging over them, nothing to worry about, just all the time in the world to simply be together. 

Helena leaned back against Myka’s chest where they were curled under one of their blankets, staring out at the waves as they gained intensity as the wind kicked up. She traced her fingers over the back of Myka’s hand, “Should we think about gathering our things? Didn’t the sign say that the park closes at dusk?”

Myka paused before answering, knowing what Helena was going to say. She laughed softly, “You’re going to accuse me of having more secrets.”

Helena turned to gaze at Myka over her shoulder, eyebrow quirked in question, “Do you?”

“It’s not really a _secret_ , but I sort of have a key…”

“A key. To the park?”

Myka sighed, “Yes. One of my friends from college, Kurt, he’s a ranger up here and one of his jobs is closing this place up at night. Eventually he realized that I came here so much, he just gave me a key, as long as I gave him a heads up whenever I was going to use it. I called him yesterday and told him we were coming, so he’ll come by at some point and lock the gate, but we can still get out.”

Helena shook her head, but couldn’t stop her smile, “You are a never-ending well of secrets, Myka Bering.”

“That may be true, but it also means we don’t have to leave yet…”

“Well…” Helena tilted her head to catch Myka’s lips in a quick kiss, “then I guess I’ll forgive this particular secret, because I have absolutely no desire to even think about leaving at the moment.”

Myka tried not to think about the lingering implications of those words; she didn’t think Helena even realized what she had said, not truly. Myka held Helena closer, eyes tracing the light starting to reflect off of the horizon. She didn’t want to think about it yet either…leaving…

Yet sometimes she just couldn’t stop herself. It was always there. That thought.  
Helena _would_ have to leave and she had no idea what to do about that.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. _Just focus on the sunset. Don’t think about it. Not yet._

**

Myka knew her back would hate her in the morning, but she couldn’t convince herself to move. They had made a makeshift bed of blankets for themselves in the back of her truck in order to watch the stars come out, but for as much padding as the blankets provided, they couldn’t quite prevent the metal from sticking into Myka’s back slightly. Myka ran her fingers through Helena’s hair, letting them slip over and under the strands, feeling Helena’s soft hum of appreciation against her chest. She couldn’t shake the feeling that everything felt just a bit _too_ perfect; the sky above them, perfectly black with too many stars to even fathom counting, the soft, steady wash of the waves lapping against the shore, the warmth of Helena’s body entirely settled against hers, blanket tucked around them to ward off the slight chill in the air. That feeling, it unsettled Myka somehow, and she knew it was because deep down she knew that it couldn’t last. Time was slipping away from them, sometimes slowly, sometimes so fast she had no idea where the days, the weeks went. October felt too close for comfort and Myka had no idea what they were going to do once they got there. She didn’t want to break the perfection, didn’t want to speak and shatter the illusion, but she felt words crawling up her throat threatening to suffocate her if she didn’t let them out. 

Her fingertips slipped against Helena’s temple, her voice cracking as it came out, “Hel…what are we going to do when…”

Helena shifted too fast and slammed her elbow against the bottom of the truck bed, but she ignored the pain that shot up her arm. “No,” she said, definitively, almost defiantly as she looked down at Myka, “we aren’t doing this tonight.”

“We have to at some point.”

“Yes, we do.” Helena sucked in a deep breath, willing the immediate panic that had sprung in her chest at Myka’s words to be beaten back into submission. She exhaled slowly, licking her lips in some vain attempt to stall, to gather her thoughts. Finally, she skated the tips of her fingers along Myka’s hairline, trying to ignore how worried Myka looked. She leaned down and brushed a mere whisper of a kiss to Myka’s lips. “You’re right, we do need to have this conversation, but not tonight, _please not tonight_. Love…you have had a catastrophic week and today has been the happiest, the calmest, the most at peace I have seen you in days. Let’s not ruin that.”

Something about the anonymity of the night, the gentle encouragement of Helena’s voice made Myka willing to speak words she usually hated admitting, “I’m scared, Helena.”

“I would be a dreadful liar if I said I wasn’t as well.”

“So what are we going to do?” Deep down Myka wasn’t sure which she was _more_ afraid of, their untenable situation or Helena’s response to that particular question.

Helena shifted so that her entire body was completely flush to Myka’s side as she wrapped one of her legs tight around one of Myka’s. “What we are going to do _right now_ is this…I’m going to kiss you, and hopefully take a bit of advantage of those _intentions_ you claimed to have earlier in the day, because this entire day has been perfect and I _will not_ sully that perfection with talk that will do neither of us any good at the moment.”

Myka felt her breath starting to come in shorter spurts as Helena’s hand drifted down to toy at the edge of her shorts. Her voice, when it came, was shaky, “Ok…and…and what about after that?”

“After that, once your legs are working properly again, my love, we’re going to drive back and we’re going to sleep, and we’ll face the rest tomorrow, together.”

“That…sounds like a plan,” Myka shuddered slightly as Helena shifted on top of her. Before allowing herself to be lulled in entirely by Helena’s movements, Myka found a small scrap of innocent reservation fighting to be heard, “Do I need to point out that we are outside, _very much in public_?”

Helena looked down at her with a teasing smirk, “Do I need to point out that I don’t particularly care? As you said earlier, no one comes here _during the day_ let alone when it’s pitch black outside, and if your friend Kurt is to be trusted, he locked us in hours ago. Therefore, we are entirely alone, and I, for one, would very much like to stop talking, because I have other, _far more enjoyable_ , things I would like to do at the moment.”

“Show me…” Myka whispered, as Helena’s fingers barely skimmed below the waistband of her shorts.

“I intend to, love,” Helena whispered before finally tilting her head down and kissing Myka firmly. 

In that moment, as Myka let a soft groan escape her throat, Helena wanted nothing more than to pull away, and finally just say it. To look at Myka beneath her, the stars reflecting in the shadows of her eyes, and just tell her… _I love you_ …but she couldn’t. She knew that somehow that too would shatter this brief bubble of perfection that they had found themselves in, and she didn’t want to disturb it, even if her heart felt like it was about to crack in her chest with the need to say it out loud. Those words wouldn’t help though. They wouldn’t change anything. They wouldn’t stop the train that they were on, barreling them towards whatever unknown destination October would bring, and so instead, she gripped her fingers tighter in Myka’s hold, and chased the feeling of Myka’s muscles shifting beneath her into oblivion.

**

_We’re having sex…outside._  
We’re having sex…in the bed of my truck…outside.  
Fuck…  
Fuck…that feels so good.  
I should care about this.  
I really should care.  
I really don’t.  
I really, really, really don’t…  
Because Jesus she feels so good…  
Fuck…  
I love her.  
I love her so goddamn much.  
Do not say that.  
Don’t accidentally say that.  
It’ll ruin everything.  
It doesn’t matter.  
I’m already ruined.  
Wrecked.  
Fuck.  
Fuck. 

“Fuck…Helena…” Myka’s back arched as Helena’s tongue swirled between her legs in patterns that should have been impossible, if not illegal.

Myka felt Helena’s laughter against her thigh, “I love it when you swear like that…like you can’t help yourself.”

“You keep doing that and I won’t really have a choice on what comes out of my mouth.”

“That was _entirely_ the plan, darling.”

Myka collapsed back against the bed of the truck, knowing she should care how much the ridges of the bed were digging into her back, but she couldn’t even give it a passing thought. She looked down the length of her body where Helena was smirking at her, chin resting against her stomach. She arched an eyebrow in challenge at Helena, “Then why did you stop?”

Even in the dark, Myka saw something flash in Helena’s eyes, felt it in the way Helena’s fingers clenched a little tighter against thighs, “Sometimes…God…Myka sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever _be able_ to stop.”

_We have to stop doing this..._  
The thought flashed quickly through Myka’s mind, the way that they kept refusing to say what they actually meant and instead choosing to say it at a slant, forcing the other to read around the edges, decipher each syllable for what was hidden just beneath. Myka shook her head quickly, they had sworn _not_ to do this tonight and she was going to live into that promise, but she couldn’t just ignore what Helena was implying in her words. She reached down to link her fingers with Helena’s and squeezed them tightly, “You don’t have to. You never have to stop…not if you don’t want to.”

Helena sighed with some odd mix of desire, relief, and frustration. She buried her head against Myka’s stomach, leaving a string of butterfly kisses against her muscles. She spoke her next words against the swell of Myka’s ribs, “I can’t imagine ever stopping…wanting you. It gets to the point that it practically hurts how bloody much I want you, Myka.”

It felt like a confession, something Helena hadn’t meant to revel, not here, not now, not in the middle of the night in the back of a truck when they were both half naked, barely covered by a blanket, with nothing but the sound of the waves and their own shared, heavy breathing to keep them company. Yet, Myka knew _exactly_ what she meant, how that want could fill you up so much that you felt like your chest was going to burst open and spill all of your hopes and dreams and wants and _love_ out for everyone to see. She tucked her fingers under Helena’s chin, drawing her forward, until they were once again flush against each other. She pulled Helena’s hair back where it was hanging around them, offering her a smile that she hoped said _she knew_ , and drawing Helena down for a kiss. Even as Helena’s lips were practically still on hers, Myka whispered, “Helena…I told you not to stop. Don’t. _Please_.”

Immediately, in response to Myka’s words and out of sheer _want_ , Helena’s fingers disappeared back between Myka’s thighs drawing a shared sigh from both of their chests. Helena tipped her forehead against Myka’s, “I won’t, darling…ever…”

**

The quiet, the complete darkness that descended around them on the drive back to Mackinaw City was something Helena wasn’t sure she had ever experienced. The woods felt like they came right up to the road, covering them, protecting them from whatever was hiding beyond their limits. Myka had the windows cracked just enough to bring a breeze and some noises of the night into the truck; Helena could feel it barely tugging at her hair as she settled against Myka’s shoulder. 

There had been times over the last three months when she and Myka had lapsed into silence and it had driven Helena to momentary panic, making her wonder if what they had was in fact fleeting and they had run out of time even before the months had run out. Now though, tucked against Myka, feeling the steady swipe of Myka’s fingers through her hair, reveling in how her fingers could feel the muscles of Myka’s knee flex and relax as she drove, Helena didn’t fear the quiet. She actually felt comforted by it, as though they had reached some sort of agreement without even saying what they needed to. Their silence was an assurance that they didn’t need words for what they were, what they had. It simply was. They simply were. There was no running from it, and neither of them wanted to try. There was no stopping for them, and for as much as that made Helena worry about the future, it also made her realize she needed to _stop_ worrying. They would figure it out. They had to.

Helena’s reverie was broken by Myka kissing her forehead, “You falling asleep on me down there?”

Helena chuckled softly, “No, darling, just thinking.”

“Dare I ask about what?”

Helena traced an obscure pattern against Myka’s knee, “One of the things I always loved about living in the city was that it was loud. I mean, I moved there because it was where the best opportunity for work was, but somewhere inside I knew that it was also because of the noise, the bustle, the never-ceasing movement. On the one hand, it reminded me of London, of home, and that brought a level of comfort…”

Myka waited for Helena to continue, but when she didn’t, she pushed forward, “What about the other hand?”

“On the other hand, I knew that I took advantage of the noise because it kept me from _thinking_. I never had to be alone with myself, with my thoughts if there was enough noise to keep me distracted.”

“You don’t get much of that up here…” Myka knew her voice reflected her concern, reflected her panic that this was somehow Helena’s way of telling her that this would never be enough. Myka feared this was Helena telling her _this life_ was too quiet.

“It hasn’t bothered me though. I expected it to, but from the moment I got here, the quiet hasn’t bothered me.”

“One of the _first things_ you ever said to me out on that porch was how quiet it was,” Myka laughed half-heartedly.

“I know, but I knew then that it felt different. It was quiet, but it was also…calm, peaceful. It was something else entirely. _I_ was something else entirely in the face of it and I liked what I found there.”

Myka tried her best to disguise the breath of relief she let out. Helena was _happy_. They were _happy_ , they just had to figure out how to keep it that way. 

Helena leaned up and placed a kiss under Myka’s jaw. “I never told you…how very glad I was, how very glad I _am_ , that you found me and the quiet that night.”

Myka reached down and squeezed the fingers Helena had resting against her knee, “Best cliff I ever jumped off of, Nerd. No contest.”

**

Myka pulled her truck into its designated spot at the lot she parked at in the city. Stifling a yawn, she turned to Helena and asked, “Do you want to get a room in the city tonight and head back in the morning or go now?”

Helena pressed her hands into her lower back, stretching her muscles, “Is it safe to take the boat back tonight? It’s so dark. Aren’t there restrictions on that kind of thing?”

“No, not if you have the right license, and yes, it’s perfectly safe. There really aren’t many other boats out at this time of night.”

“You aren’t too tired?”

Myka shrugged, “It’ll take us a half hour to get back, I can make it.”

Helena leaned over and kissed Myka lightly, “Then let’s go back. I imagine Trailer would be quite angry with us if we didn’t come home.”

_Home_. Myka didn’t know if Helena realized she had said it or if it was said with utter intention. All that Myka _did_ know was that Helena hadn’t referred to the Island as home all summer, she had certainly never used that word within the context of Myka’s house before, regardless of how much time she had spent there, how much it felt like she _lived_ there. 

Myka wasn’t sure how she truly _knew_ , but there was something about the way that Helena immediately slipped her hand into hers as they walked towards the dock, the way she walked just a bit closer to Myka’s hip, that made Myka know for certain…Helena knew exactly what she had said. For once, Helena wasn’t dancing around what her words truly meant. The Island was home. Myka’s house was home. More than anything, _they were home_.

Myka desperately wanted to analyze what that meant. She wanted to let her mind twist and turn around the implications of it all. Did this mean Helena would stay? Did it mean they had a plan?

_Not tonight_. Helena’s words echoed back through her mind. Those weren’t thoughts for tonight. It was late. She was tired and she was deliriously happy, happier than she could quite remember ever being, and after the week she had had, she hadn’t been sure when she’d ever feel that again. She didn’t need to think about this now. She just needed to drive the boat home and crawl into bed with Helena next to her, that’s all she needed to do. She unlinked her hand from Helena’s and slipped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. Helena pressed a kiss to her cheek and that was the only reminder that Myka needed.

For tonight all that mattered was this, was them and the quiet. All that mattered was that Helena was right next to her and they were going home. Everything else, every other question could wait until the morning. For tonight, for this moment, she could forget that time was still running away from them.


	12. Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some storms are impossible to out run and every ending has to begin somewhere; then again every new beginning has to start somewhere too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh y'all...it has been a hot minute...more than a hot minute and I have no explanation other than...life and a startlingly long battle with writer's block.
> 
> I am sorry that this took so long, but a huge shout out of thanks to those of you who have checked in and asked about this story. It's helped keep the words flowing.
> 
> Fear not, this story will get finished. The motivation is high at the moment and we only have a few more chapters to go, so hopefully I will not leave you for months again to wonder what our gals are up to.
> 
> For now, the best apology I can give you is a whopping 21k of words to make up for the months of none.
> 
> Again, you all are the damn best.

Helena was just pulling a warm batch of muffins out of the oven when Myka came down the stairs, still toweling her hair off from the shower, smirk on her face even as she inhaled deeply. An intoxicating scent of cinnamon and apples pervaded Helena’s entire house so viscerally that even Trailer, usually still asleep this early in the morning, was wide awake, tail wagging vehemently at Helena’s ankles in the kitchen.

“Do you ever stop baking?” Myka asked, discarding her towel on one of the barstools and coming up to slip her arms around Helena’s waist, leaving a soft trail of kisses to the side of her neck. She chuckled softly, “I swear, I’m surprised you don’t sleep bake.”

“Believe me…it’s happened,” Helena said evenly, fingers deftly prizing steaming muffins from their holders to sit on a cooling rack.

“You’re kidding.”

“No, though it only happened once, near the end of culinary school. I was utterly consumed by our final examinations, I was stressed and exhausted, and well…my mind wouldn’t quite shut off, asleep or not.”

“What happened?”

“Thankfully, the oven timer woke up my roommate, who came out and found me asleep in a mound of flour on the counter.”

“I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, you’re a bloody menace,” Myka teased, placing another kiss to the side of Helena’s neck.

“Yes, well, now I have proper motivation to stay in bed, so I believe you’re safe,” Helena smirked over her shoulder, kissing Myka lightly.

“A menace _and_ a tremendous flirt.”

Helena shrugged, shifting out of Myka’s hold to start putting ingredients away, “What can I say? I’m a multi-talented individual.”

“I’m aware.” Myka maneuvered around the living room gathering her things, far too aware that she was on the brink of being late. She had promised Steve that they could get to the stables early to start planning for the horses’ inevitable mass exodus in September. They only had five weeks to go until the first load would head back across the water to Pickford, and they done very little planning. She could tell Steve was starting to get stressed just by looking at him and so she had promised they would start, despite the churning such a promise left in her gut. 

Helena watched as Myka packed up her things, wishing more than anything that they could just have the morning together, but she knew Myka needed to get to the stables and so despite her desire to do so, she didn’t push. As Myka came back into the kitchen, Trailer’s leash in her hand, bag over her shoulder, Helena held a muffin out to her, “At least I can assure myself that despite your early morning, you are not going unfed.”

Myka rolled her eyes playfully, taking the proffered muffin, “I appreciate it.” Myka leaned in for a lingering kiss. She pulled away far sooner than she would have liked with a sigh, “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course, love.”

“Oh,” some sort of remembrance dawned in Myka’s eyes, “I have to stop at the store later, do we need anything for the rest of the week?”

Helena leaned back to tug a list out from under a magnet on the fridge, holding it out apologetically, “I will remind you that you asked.”

Myka smiled brightly, kissing Helena again quickly, “I did, and I’m happy to do it. You keep me fed, the least I can do is keep the refrigerator stocked.”

“And now _I_ am the one who is appreciative.”

“Ok, I’ll take care of it, and now,” Myka glanced at her watch, “Ugh, ok, running _very_ late. I gotta go.”

Helena tugged on Myka’s shirt, pulling her in for one more kiss. “Yes, go, go. Be careful. _Eat_. I’ll see you this evening.”

Myka nodded, leaning down to clip Trailer’s leash to his collar. She walked towards the door before turning back around quickly. She looped an arm around Helena’s waist, kissing her softly. When she pulled away she tipped her forehead against Helena’s, whispering, “Cliffs…and all of that…jumping…cliffs…”

A soft chuckle, almost sad, left Helena’s lips, “The same to you, darling. Now go, before Steve calls and yells at me for making you late.”

Myka was swiftly out the door after that, leaving with a bright smile and a small apology to Trailer for the fact that they were going to have to rush to get him home. 

After the door closed, Helena sank onto the couch with a sigh, her fingers lingering against her lips which still tingled with Myka’s touch. She had grown to love mornings like this, even when they were hasty and a bit frantic. She loved being up when Myka left for work, teasing her about eating, making sure that she had breakfast. She loved Trailer being up with her, sometimes just curled up on the couch while she baked, other times pawing at her ankles for attention or scraps from whatever she was chopping on the counter. She loved the simplicity of it, the _normalcy_ of it, as though this was just their _life_ , shopping lists and goodbye kisses and “see you tonight’s,” and the bathroom being suffused with the smell of Myka’s shampoo. It was blissful. She only wished it was actually _simple_. Her eyes trailed to her phone, awakening the screen to stare at the date. _August 8_. She’d been on the Island for almost four months. The realization dawned in her mind with an echoing pang in her chest and Myka’s words about cliffs and jumping ringing in her ears…she had been on the Island longer than the time she had left on it. The scales had finally tipped. Four months here…not even three months left…

Where had the time gone?

**

The funk that Helena had found herself in throughout the morning managed to dissipate through the sheer joy of being at work. For as much as she and Wolly had had their moments during the summer, they knew that butting heads had always been a part of how they worked, and those moments always brought them to where they currently were, in the midst of a strong period of perfect synchronicity. Their creativity had hit a massive spike with the late summer coming on, inspired by new waves of produce into the kitchen and the flocks of tourists who were seeking to enjoy the last few weeks of summer. Rather than letting the quickly diminishing time stress them more than necessary, they were using it as motivation, striving to do everything that they had hoped to accomplish before the summer ran out. They were testing new recipes, trying new things, even taking a few more risks than usual all because they _could_ , the kitchen was simply working that well with the two of them at the helm.

Helena was elbow deep in a massive ball of dough when someone shouted her name across the room, loud enough to rise above the hiss and clatter of the kitchen at prime dinner prep time. She glanced over her shoulder, never ceasing to keep working her hands, “What is it?”

The unknown, practically disembodied voice rose again over the din, “There’s someone on the phone for you.”

“The phone?” Helena pried her hands out of the dough, idly grabbing a towel to start wiping stray bits off of her fingers, mumbling to herself, “Who the bloody hell would call me here?” She grabbed her phone off of the shelf where she had stashed it out of sight and immediately her stomach turned harshly; she had six missed calls from Steve. Her steps quickened towards the office, barreling through the door and grabbing the phone out of the hand of the person who had called for her that she didn’t even have enough mental capacity to recognize at the moment.

“Steve! What is it? What’s wrong?” Her voice was high, panicked. Steve _never_ called her, let alone at work, and that could only mean a few things, none of which were even remotely good.

“Hey…I couldn’t get you on your phone…”

“I know, it wasn’t on me. _What is wrong?_ ”

“It’s nothing…major…”

“You’ve called me _seven bloody times_ , do not sugar coat it, just tell me.”

“We’re…we’re at the hospital…with Myka.”

A sharp pang of dread resounded in Helena’s chest, her breath flooding out of her lungs, her heart pounding at a rate she knew should alarm her. Her fingers trembled around the receiver, “I’ll be right there.”

“ _Steve, I swear to God if that is Helena I will murder you._ ” Myka’s voice echoed from the background, loud and perfectly clear. 

“Yeah and she would have murdered _me_ once she had found out and realized I hadn’t called, so I’ll take my chances with you since you’re not exactly up for a fight at the moment.” 

“Steve!” Helena shouted into the phone. 

“Sorry, she’s in…well, you heard her. She isn’t happy.”

“You’re damn right I’m not because I am _fine_.”

“Jesus,” Helena groaned, “I will be _right there_. Text me where you are so I can find you.”

“She’s going to yell if you show up, you know that right?”

“She can yell her bloody head off for all I care. I will see you in a few minutes.” Helena slammed the phone down, trying to pull her apron off at the same time. She rushed back into the kitchen shouting, “Wolly, I’m leaving!”

“ _What the hell? Why?_ ”

“My stubborn girlfriend is in the hospital for some apparent reason…”

“ _Again I say_ , what the hell? Why?”

Helena rolled her eyes, gathering her things up as she moved towards the door, “I have no idea, but I am determined to find out.” 

Suddenly, Wolly was standing in front of her, hands gripping around her shoulders, “Hey…take a second, just one second and let yourself breathe.”

Helena hadn’t realized how badly she was shaking, how cracked her voice had sounded. She let out a shuddering breath, letting Wolly pull her in for a hug, mumbling against his shoulder, “She has to be all right.”

Wolly kissed her temple fiercely, “She will be, just go and find out what’s going on. I’ll keep things steady here. Text me when you know something.”

“You’re sure things will be fine?” Helena’s eyes roved around the kitchen, they still had so much prep to do.

“You do not worry one second about things here. _Go._ I can handle this.”

She pointed a finger into his chest, “ _Do not burn my desserts_.”

Wolly put a hand to his heart with faux drama, grasping Helena’s hand between his free one with a light squeeze, “I promise on my life.”

“You’re ridiculous, and I’m leaving.”

Helena wasn’t sure she had ever pedaled so fast in her life, and she was halfway certain that now would be the time when she came face to face with the reality that you could get a ticket on the Island for reckless biking, because she was paying no attention to where she was going or who was around her. Never had the Island felt so damn _huge_. Despite the fact that the hospital was barely five minutes from the Grand, it felt like it took her hours to get there, skidding her bike into a spot, barely taking the time to lock it up before running into the ER.

Steve had texted her the bed number Myka was in, but she didn’t need it, all it took was one glance around the open space of the ER to find Myka’s bed. Not only could she _hear_ all of them, but there were people practically spilling out of the small corner of the room that Myka occupied, Jane, Pete, Kelly, Steve, plus several doctors all seemed to be crowded around Myka’s bed, and it made Helena’s panic spike even more; if there were this many people…something had to be wrong. 

She rushed forward, gripping a hand around Pete’s shoulder and tugging him back slightly so that she could get through, uncertain if she was prepared for whatever she was going to see.

“You _did not_ need to leave work!” Myka’s voice hit Helena square in the chest the second she emerged out of the throng of people surrounding the bed.

Helena rolled her eyes, coming up beside the bed and gripping Myka’s hand immediately, trying to assess what exactly was wrong, _why_ Myka needed to be in the hospital when she appeared to be perfectly fine, when she _sounded_ as she claimed, perfectly fine. She gave Myka’s hand a squeeze, “You’re out of your bloody mind if you think I’m not leaving work the second someone calls and tells me you’re in the damn hospital.”

“Yes, but I don’t _need_ to be in the hospital, therefore _everyone_ needs to _go home_.”

“Well, at least we know that she didn’t damage the part of her brain that impacts stubbornness,” Pete commented.

Helena’s brow furrowed, eyes roaming across Myka’s face. Once she truly looked, she realized that Myka’s eyes were slightly dazed, and that she was in some amount of pain, a soft purple bump blossoming on her forehead. Helena reached out and traced her fingers along Myka’s cheek, “My hard-headed woman…what happened?”

“Ok, before we get into those details, I need this space to clear out a bit.” Myka’s doctor, a woman that Helena didn’t recognize spoke up from the side of the bed. 

“ _Thank you_ , Vanessa,” Myka said.

The doctor, Vanessa, clapped her hands, “Alright, I’m going to ask everyone who is not Jane or this lovely woman who I am assuming is your girlfriend to scoot out of here.”

“Jane, you can go home too,” Myka stated evenly.

“Like hell I can. As your emergency contact _and_ as your _mother_ , basically, I am not leaving this room until I hear every last thing Vanessa has to say.”

Vanessa chuckled warmly, “That’s a losing battle, Myka. You know I would have called her anyway, even if she wasn’t your emergency contact, seeing as I enjoy breathing, and if I hadn’t told Jane you were here, I would be in the bed next to you, so she stays.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Myka sighed, but she shot a small wink at Jane, giving her hand a squeeze, “parents and girlfriends are the only ones allowed.”

Pete, Kelly, and Steve filed through kissing Myka’s forehead, demanding to be kept updated, all the while being subjected to Myka’s insistence that all of them were making far too big of a fuss. Eventually, they all cleared out and it was only the four of them left. Vanessa extended a hand across the bed to Helena, with a warm smile, “I’m Dr. Calder, Vanessa, by the way. I’m Myka’s doctor, obviously, but I’ve also known her since she was a kid so…”

“Helena, well…H.G., and as you correctly assumed, I’m Myka’s girlfriend.” Helena shot a small smile Myka’s way before her voice lowered back into concern, “Now, will you finally tell me what happened?”

Myka grimaced as she tried to sit up more on the bed, “We were trying to clean up some of the stalls, and we had a couple of the horses out in the walkways. I don’t know what did it, but one of them got spooked. He kicked out and while I dodged most of it, he clipped my ankle and I sort of fell headlong into a wall.”

“Hence the bump.”

Myka grinned sheepishly, fingers delicately touching her forehead, “Hence the bump.”

Vanessa cleared her throat slightly, eyeing Myka pointedly, “According to Steve, you did a bit more than bump your head. She was apparently a little woozy after, confused momentarily, which is why he _wisely_ brought her here. I want to make sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”

“I _am not_ concussed.”

“Love…” Helena ran her hand up and down Myka’s arm, “it’s better to be safe with these things. Just…just let them run some tests.”

“Oh, I like you. Maybe she’ll actually _listen_ to you,” Vanessa commented.

“If she does, then I may be concerned she actually is concussed,” Helena smirked.

“Hey!” 

Helena leaned forward and placed a kiss to the bridge of Myka’s nose, “Just making sure you’re paying attention, darling. Call it my own concussion protocol.”

“Myka,” Vanessa stated evenly, “I do think you are probably right. You haven’t been confused or disoriented since you came in, but I do want to be certain. Let me run a few tests and I promise, if they’re clear, I will happily send you home.”

Myka looked at Helena carefully, she could see the worry racing behind her eyes, how her shoulders were tensed just a bit too tightly. She sighed, “Fine, yes, let’s just get it over with.”

It took several hours, each moment of which contained some form of complaint and mild resistance from Myka and no little amount of worry from Helena and Jane, but eventually Vanessa assessed that overall, Myka was clear enough to go home. 

“As long as someone stays with you. You’re going to have one hell of a headache for a few days, but if it gets worse, if you show _any_ change, you get in here _immediately_.”

“Aye aye,” Myka mockingly saluted.

“There is one other thing,” Vanessa grimaced slightly. “You will hate me for this, but I don’t want you working for a couple of days.”

“ _Vanessa…_ ”

“Myka, I’m serious. I know you said you feel fine, and yes, you’re scans were clear, but I want to be sure, and I don’t want you taking any chances and getting yourself really hurt. _Stay home_.”

“How long,” Helena asked.

“Three days would make me happy, but I’ll be shocked if that actually happens.”

“It will happen.” Helena was definitive. She shot Myka a look that said she wouldn’t listen to a single argument. 

“I would say you could come stay with me, but,” Jane smiled warmly at Helena, “I think you’re in good hands at home, so I will leave you two to it.” She leaned forward and kissed Myka on the forehead, “Do not be too stubborn. _Take care of yourself_. I love you.”

Myka’s mood softened under Jane’s attention, “I love you too, and I promise, I will…”

“Good.” Jane turned and hugged Helena tightly, whispering in her ear, “If you need me to come read her the riot act I will.”

Helena chuckled, “I will be sure to do just that.”

**

It had taken a world of coercing to convince Myka that she couldn’t bike home, that they needed an alternate solution other than her getting home by putting her still rattled brain into the position of only having two wheels and her own feet between her and asphalt. She had been adamant that she was _fine_ , that by the time they walked up to the stables to get her bike her head would be fully cleared and then she and Helena could just bike the rest of the way to her house. Helena, however, if she was being honest, didn’t give a damn for that argument, adamant or not.

“Helena Grace Wells, I swear I will walk home _by myself_ if you do not put that phone down,” Myka bit out between clenched teeth.

Helena didn’t even acknowledge Myka’s tone, let alone the entire sentence, she simply wrapped her free hand around Myka’s wrist and tugged her down onto the bench where she was sitting, casually continuing her phone conversation, “Yes, we’re right outside the hospital entrance.” There was a slight pause followed by a swift nod from Helena, her tone coming falsely bright, “Ten minutes. Splendid. We _will_ be here.”

As Helena disconnected the call, Myka turned to her, eyes flashing, mouth halfway open and words already ready to spill out.

“You’re fine, yes, I know. You’ve mentioned it,” Helena interjected, allowing her tone to shift into something akin to frustration rather than letting it betray the emotions that were _actually_ coursing through her still overly attuned nervous system.

Myka sat back and folded her arms tightly around her waist, letting out a tight huff, “If I wasn’t, Vanessa wouldn’t have let me leave.”

“Myka…” Helena reached out and softly untwisted Myka’s arms so that she could properly grasp her hand, deciding that bickering with the woman with a potential brain injury wasn’t the wisest decision. She fought to clear her throat, fighting a losing battle against her emotions, “You…you scared the hell out of me today. When Steve called…I swear I always though it was just a thing people said...‘my heart stopped in my chest,’ but I panicked, Myka, full on, honest to God, panicked. If something happened to you…” Helena cut herself off unwilling to let her mind finish the thought. She let out a shuddering breath, “Will you please just…just give me this one thing. Please let me feel like I’m doing _something_ to make sure that you’re safe.”

Silence shrouded them as Helena’s words died off on the wind. Eventually, Myka’s palm squeezed delicately around Helena’s and she leaned over to leave a lingering kiss to Helena’s cheek, whispering a soft, “Thank you,” against Helena’s skin.

Helena’s breath fled her lungs in a soft rush of relief, “I believe it is my turn to say cliffs and jumping and however else you put it this morning.”

Another kiss danced across Helena’s cheek as Myka’s quiet laughter echoed around them, “I think that covers it.”

The rocking clatter of hooves invaded their small sense of privacy, reminding them that they were very much out in public. Helena stood on somewhat shaky feet, pulling Myka up with her, “It will have to cover it for now seeing as our ride is here.”

**

The second that they walked in the house, Trailer was by Myka’s side, sniffing around her knees, decidedly _not_ jumping on her, as if he knew, sensed intuitively that this was not a normal homecoming. Myka knelt down in front of him where he went practically stock still, sitting straight up, the only sign of movement from him being the slight wagging of the tip of his tail. It was if he was waiting for Myka to tell him something, to assure him that all was well, that this bit of abnormal was actually ok. Myka smoothed her hand over his head, pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose, mumbling over and over and over into his fur, “It’s ok, bud, I promise,” 

While Trailer seemed to become more and more at ease with each pass of Myka’s hand through his fur, Helena felt herself becoming more off-kilter. The realization that Trailer sensed so acutely that something was wrong, only reinforced to her how very badly today could have gone, how very serious this could have been, how serious it still was despite Myka’s protestations. She left Myka and Trailer to their own devices and maneuvered her way into the kitchen, desperate for immediate distraction.

They’d need something for dinner. It was the only thought Helena allowed herself to entertain. This, like getting Myka home safely, was a tangible thing that she could _do_. She could make them dinner. Haphazardly, cupboards opened and closed beneath Helena’s hands, ingredients pulled out at random, all in an effort to calm her mind. It was part of what Helena loved so much about cooking, what made her decide that this was the best thing the could do with her life, how cooking chased away all distraction, soothed her sometimes frantic thoughts, and brought her home to center. Something happened to Helena’s mind when she was fusing a recipe together in her mind, even if it was something that she had made hundreds of times. The intention, the focus that cooking required didn’t allow for distraction, for stray thoughts, it required attention and the proper mindset, particularly baking. If you went about whipping a meringue while angry or distracted, soft peaks soon turned hard. If you thought you could just do something by memory, the tablespoon ended up looking an awful lot like a teaspoon, and everything quickly went to hell. So right now, when her mind was racing with could have been’s and alternate versions of what Steve could have said on the phone, what she needed to do was _cook_ , to focus on this one thing. 

As an idea for dinner formed in her mind, she called out to the living room where Myka had settled onto the couch with Trailer nestled across her ankles, “Can I get you anything, love?”

“Honestly? A cup of tea sounds kind of perfect at the moment.” There was a small beat, before Myka’s voice continued with a hint of teasing, “And _do not_ take that as evidence that my brain is in fact well and truly addled. One cup of tea does not mean that my brain is broken.”

Helena chuckled lightly as she pulled the kettle from the cupboard, “At the moment, I’m less thinking that it’s broken and more that that bump on your head imbued you with mind-reading powers.”

“No superpowers here beyond the fact that I know you far too well, Nerd.”

**

Listening to Helena maneuvering around the kitchen, hearing the cupboards opening and closing with clear intention, Myka’s comment about knowing Helena far too well, something about it all made Myka feel… _something_ …something that she couldn’t put her finger on, not until she heard the telltale sound of Helena tipping food into Trailer’s bowl. _She’s at home here_. It was a thought that Myka realized she had been fighting for weeks, willing her mind to not notice how many of Helena’s clothes were now in the closet, how many of her cookbooks were scattered across the kitchen, how the bathroom was now well and properly _theirs_. She hadn’t wanted to even entertain the thought, the change, because she knew once she noticed it, it would only make all those things’ inevitable _absence_ all the more painful to process. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought it about Helena and the Island, how it had become clear that Helena had settled into a definite sense of general _homeyness_. It was the point blank fact that Myka could not handle thinking about _her home_ becoming _their home_ , not when it couldn’t stay that way, not when it would never be permanent. 

She hadn’t wanted to think about it, but maybe the bump on her head had, in fact, jostled _something_ , because now…now she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Helena had carved out a place in the house, she knew her way around the cupboards, had even rearranged some of them in order to make cooking easier, she knew Trailer’s schedule, knew the little quirks of the faucets and how often Myka liked to change the sheets. They had a routine, balanced around work schedules and days off. Jesus, they even rotated the chores without even realizing it, who took out the trash, who got groceries…

_Fuck…_ the groceries.

Myka tugged the grocery list Helena had given her that morning out of her pocket with a sigh and called out to the kitchen apologetically, “The impromptu trip to the hospital kind of means that I didn’t get a chance to go grocery shopping so I’m afraid the cupboards are still woefully bare.”

“Nothing to worry about, love. I’ll muster up something out of whatever we have left.”

_We_ …Myka closed her eyes against the slight headache that was building behind her eyes, one that she knew had nothing to do with her fall. _How do you stay a “we” when you’re eight hundred miles apart?_

**

“Here’s your tea, darling.” Helena handed Myka a mug of tea, settling delicately next to Myka’s hip on the couch, careful not to jostle her or Trailer too much, unwilling to disturb either of their comfort. She held her own mug tightly between her palms, willing the heat from it to seep into her bones and chase away the chill that had taken up residence there from the moment that Steve had called. 

The entire afternoon felt surreal, as if it hadn’t actually happened to _them_ , but to some alternate timeline version of them. Helena felt as though her brain was trying to convince her that it _hadn’t_ actually happened. Somehow that felt safer than what her brain was trying to get her to think about, how if Myka had fallen differently, if anything had changed even slightly, things could have been so very much worse, how things could have been unthinkable. Her fingers flexed around her mug, struggling to find something tangible to hold on to, to tether her thoughts to so that they wouldn’t escape and chase her into a land of never-ending what if’s. 

“Hey…Hel…”

Myka’s voice tugged Helena out of the darkness of her thoughts, as she blinked furiously trying to shake off the distance she had been staring into, “Yes, love?”

“I’m really ok.” Myka laid her palm against Helena’s cheek, running her thumb along delicate bones, trying to smooth away the concern that she could see lying so close to the surface of Helena’s face.

Helena turned a kiss into Myka’s palm, “I know… _I know_ …just…you’ll tell me if anything feels off? Anything at all.”

“I promise.” Myka sucked in a deep breath, sitting up slightly against the pillows, “I know…I know I’m downplaying this, and it’s truly because I do feel fine, but I’m also not going to even remotely fuck with it either. I’ve seen things like this go really wrong, so I swear, I will speak up. I will tell you if anything feels strange.”

Helena gripped a hand around Myka’s wrist, unwilling to break the connection of Myka’s palm against her skin, somehow needing to feel Myka right there, warm and safe and sure. She let out a shuddering sigh, “I just keep thinking…”

“Don’t…Helena…” Myka’s voice was sharp, almost hard, jerking Helena once again away from her train of thought. Myka dipped her head to meet Helena’s eyes where they were looking adamantly into her mug, “You will make yourself crazy doing that. I’m here. I’m _right here_.” Myka curled her fingers slightly against Helena’s cheek, encouraging Helena to lean forward, further into her touch, drawing Helena down and in for what she had initially planned to be a light, a _tame_ , kiss.

Unconsciously, Helena shifted her mug onto the coffee table, never once breaking away from Myka’s lips. With her hands free, she fought back all of her instincts to grip her fingers hard against the back of Myka’s neck and hold her there until this feeling of incessant fear went away, instead lightly cupping her fingers against Myka’s jaw. She felt her body responding far too quickly to where Myka seemed to be wanting to lead them, yet she forced herself, with a willpower she didn’t realize she actually possessed, to pull away, shaking her head, “Myka…we can’t…”

“I know…and I should care about that…I just…Hel…I can’t…” Myka refused to let her mind actually voice the thoughts racing through her head, refused to say out loud _to Helena_ that this sense of home, this blissful comfort of their life was scaring the living hell out of her. She couldn’t tell Helena that internally she was screaming, scrambling against her goddamn internal clock that seemed to be ticking by the minutes far too fast. Today was not the day for that conversation, not when Helena still looked so worried, not when they had something far more pressing, far too immediate to concern themselves with. 

Yet…regardless of whether those thoughts were voiced or not, they were there, settled into her mind, twining themselves around every thought, refusing to let Myka go. It was ridiculous and the timing was horrendous and she was certain Helena was never going to give in, but Myka had to _try_ , somehow feeling as though the only thing that would assuage her racing brain was Helena’s touch.

**

Helena’s brain was pounding against her skull an incessant beat of _no, no, no_ , but her body, her heart? They were only interested in telling her brain to bugger off and let her, let them, have this. Rational or not, she felt like she had come so close to losing Myka, and she didn’t know any way to stop those thoughts, those what if’s from spiraling, except for grounding herself in Myka’s presence, in the assurance that Myka was _right there_ , quite literally beneath her fingertips. 

She stood on shaky knees and hooked her fingers behind Myka’s shoulders urging her to move, “Up, up.”

Myka eyed her with confusion, despite following her movements, “Helena, what are you…”

Helena shifted Myka forward just enough to give herself space to slip behind Myka on the couch, jostling the cushions enough to cause Trailer to leap off of Myka’s ankles and distractedly wander into the bedroom. Helena fought back a small chuckle…he somehow always _knew_ , but right now she didn’t care. She pulled Myka back against her, savoring the warmth, the weight of Myka’s body against hers. Tucking Myka’s curls behind her ear with one hand, and laying a possessive hand against Myka’s hip with the other, Helena whispered, “You…are not supposed to exert yourself.” She felt Myka shudder beneath her, as her thumb began rubbing slow circles into the dip of Myka’s hip, encouraging Myka to sink into her hold, let her muscles let go of any and all rigidity and just relax into the movement. 

“How…how exactly…” Myka’s voice was already a tangled mess of breathy want, “Do you expect me to _not_ exert myself…in this…situation.”

“Because, darling,” Helena’s teeth flashed out and nipped at Myka’s earlobe drawing a sharp intake of breath, a sigh of further need from Myka. “All you have to do is lay back and let me do as I was instructed earlier…take care of you.”

Myka chuckled from deep in her throat, mesmerized by the continued movement of Helena’s hands sliding across her stomach, “Somehow, I don’t think this is what Vanessa had in mind, _and_ this hardly seems fair.”

“At the moment, I don’t particularly care about _fair_. Likewise, you keep demanding that you are _fine_ , and well, I can think of few other means of assuring myself that you are in fact as you claim.”

A shaky sigh fled Myka’s lungs as Helena slid a line of kisses down her neck, lulling her further into whatever dance they had started, “Leave it to you to have thought this through so well.”

“You do so adore my mind, darling.”

“At this very second…I like…your hands…better.”

Helena’s teeth sank into the muscle connecting Myka’s neck and shoulder with just enough force to draw a keen from Myka’s throat. Tentatively, she looped her fingers through the tongue of Myka’s belt tugging it free, “When you put it that way…maybe I should get on with my aforementioned promise to care for you.”

It was slow, but it was certainly not tentative. Helena let instinct and desire override her brain and simply give in to feeling, to touching Myka. The tiny sounds of pleasure that kept escaping Myka’s throat, the drawn out moans that came whenever Helena sped up her fingers, chased away all thoughts of danger and what ifs. There was nothing left but them. Helena fought to prolong it as much as she could, teasing out her movements with a slow and measured pace, but eventually there was no resisting the urging of Myka’s hips, the way she kept rising up faster and faster to meet Helena’s fingers. Myka was pure liquid fire beneath her touch and Helena knew this was somehow exactly what they both had needed. She needed _this_ , this solid, so very real presence of Myka against her, surrounding her, taking over all of her. There was a kind of desperation in Myka’s voice, in her movements, and though Helena had no idea what exactly Myka was chasing away, she was more than willing to follow her down, to give her whatever she needed, for as long as she needed. 

Eventually, Myka stilled against Helena’s chest, tipping her head against Helena’s shoulder with one last heavy sigh, her stomach muscles still trembling beneath the sweeping movements of Helena’s fingers moving against her skin. She tilted her head to catch Helena’s lips in a fierce kiss, “You are…word stealing.”

Helena smirked slightly, brushing a kiss against Myka’s forehead, “You know that I am going to be inclined to fear that your inability to find words has more to do with your head than my capabilities, correct?”

Myka rolled her eyes, “Ridiculous woman. I continue to be fine, _more than fine_ now. I am heavenly and you are enchanting and breathtaking and wicked and perfection.”

“That’s a lot of syllables.”

“Have I convinced you?”

Helena’s shoulder twitched in a small shrug, “Possibly a small amount.”

“Spectacular.” Myka shifted slightly, attempting to turn in Helena’s hold, but finding Helena’s muscles resistant. Myka sighed, dancing her fingers down Helena’s forearm, “I thought you believed that I was fine. I could…”

Helena placed a line of kisses from Myka’s cheek to her ear, whispering, “I know, love, but please…we can leave it here…for now.”

“For now?”

“Yes, for now…you can owe me.”

“Oh, I do like the sound of that…”

**

When Myka woke up the next morning to find not only the sun beating into her bedroom in bright, unrelenting waves, but also Helena still very much in bed with her, her first instinct was to panic. Their alarm _should_ have gone off. She needed to get to the stables. It took her a second for it to sink in, but she was slowly reminded. The slight headache that lingered behind her eyes, the twinge that she felt in her back when she tried to move, they were all she needed to remember that she actually had nowhere to go. She sank back into her pillow mumbling, “Goddamn, doctor’s orders.” Her frustration fled quickly though when she realized that just because _she_ didn’t have anywhere to be didn’t mean that the same applied to Helena. Helena should have been up hours ago, in fact. Myka’s immediate thought was that Wolly was going to kill her, or both of them, she wasn’t sure which, because if Helena was late then the entire order of the day was going to be off. She was on the brink of shaking Helena awake when her brain finally caught up to the situation around her. Helena _never_ forgot to set an alarm. Helena would _never_ leave Wolly in the lurch like that…

She turned towards Helena with a heavy sigh, taking in how calm she seemed in sleep, slightly sprawled on her back, but with a hand still possessively laid against Myka’s thigh. Myka propped herself up on an elbow and just _watched_ for a few seconds, because how on earth could this woman be so stubborn and _how on earth_ did she get so goddamn lucky as to have this stubborn woman in her bed?

As if sensing Myka’s attention, Helena’s back arched slightly, her eyes struggling to slowly open. Immediately, her focus was on Myka, as Helena turned her head quickly, worry sprung onto her face in an instant, “Darling, are you ok?”

Myka rolled her eyes and leaned in to place a soft kiss to Helena’s still sleep dry lips, “I’m fine, just laying here contemplating your stubbornness.”

“My stubbornness?” Helena arched an eyebrow, stretching her shoulders back before turning to face Myka fully, “That’s an…interesting choice of thought for the morning.”

“You should be at work.”

“No, I shouldn’t.”

“Helena…”

“Myka, no,” Helena shook her head fiercely. “ _This_ is where I need to be today.”

“I’m _fine_.”

“I’m going to start taking a drink for every time you say that, it might help me deal with _your_ stubbornness.”

“You’ll be hammered before noon if you do that,” Myka chuckled softly.

“I might need to be if you are going to continue insisting that I don’t need to be here.”

Myka sighed, “No, it’s not…it’s not that I don’t _want_ you here, but Hel, you didn’t need to take off work.”

“Well that decision was somewhat made for me last night when Wolly texted to tell me that he already had someone to cover my shift.”

“So you _were_ going to go to work…”

“Absolutely not, Wolly just beat me to the punch as it were.” Helena sank onto the pillows, eyeing Myka with what she hoped wasn’t too much incredulity. “I do hear you when you say that you’re fine, and I believe you, but for my own peace of mind, I’d rather be here for the day, _just in case_ you start to feel off. Vanessa said someone needed to stay with you. Plus…I know you, Myka Bering, and the second you convince yourself that you are well and truly fine, your ass is going to be at those stables, and I am hoping to keep that instinct at bay for at least 24 hours.”

Myka wanted to fight back against the logic, wanted to push against this brick wall that was Helena’s determination, but she couldn’t muster the strength. On the one hand, her head did still hurt, _exactly_ as Vanessa said it would, and on the other hand, it wasn’t such a bad thing, the idea of having an extra day for just them. Considering all of her worries about _time_ , she figured she probably shouldn’t argue with the prospect of them having an extra day together, despite the fact that Helena would spend most of it worrying over her. She slid a hair closer to Helena, pressing up against her with a slight amount of pressure, “So…a whole day to ourselves…what _exactly_ do you have in mind?”

Helena rolled her eyes, “Nothing of the sort which your tone implies.”

Teasing, warm fingertips skimmed down Helena’s arm, Myka leaning just a bit further into her, “You said it yourself, I’m stubborn, which usually means I get what I want…”

An unconscious tremble rippled through Helena’s body, which she _knew_ Myka felt, but she fought against it, against the heat that was building in her stomach at the push and pull of Myka’s fingers on her skin. She swallowed thickly, “You are a wicked woman…”

A throaty chuckle pushed past Myka’s lips as she pressed a firm kiss to the hollow of Helena’s throat, “I have my moments…particularly when that moment happens to find me with absolutely nowhere I have to be and you looking utterly devastating in my bed.”

Helena wrestled her desire into a tiny, compact ball which she pushed to the back of her mind, shifting slightly away from Myka’s searching fingers, “We do have all day…”

Myka shook her head with a playful sigh, “A head injury _and_ rejection…”

“ _Not_ rejection, merely _delay_. You are going to let me go make you breakfast, and then we are going to enjoy our day, since it is freely before us, and then…” Helena snaked her heel along Myka’s calf, “Then we will see where the night takes us.”

“Now who’s being wicked?”

“I learn from the best, darling.”

**

Begrudgingly, by the middle of the afternoon, Myka finally admitted that it was probably a good idea that she had heeded Vanessa’s request and stayed home. After breakfast, they had taken Trailer for a mildly lengthy walk and then finally tackled the grocery shopping that had gotten shunted aside the day before. By the time they had gotten home and had lunch, Myka could no longer disguise that she was tired, that she was more than a little sore, and definitely in need of a bit more Advil. 

To her credit, Helena didn’t panic at the admission. It had done her mind a great deal of good to see how well Myka had managed the morning, to see that she was indeed _fine_ , and that the wear that Myka was showing in the afternoon was simply something to be expected given the circumstances. Vanessa had warned them, warned her, before they left the hospital that the headaches would be there, that they were totally normal and unconcerning as long as they weren’t intense or prolonged. She had told Helena to expect Myka’s sore muscles and that she would be a little slow-going for a day or two, so when Myka told her that she was going to take a nap, Helena _didn’t_ immediately fly into a panic, but simply said she would check in on her in a half hour to make sure she was ok and gladly let her go sleep. 

Helena filled the time by mindlessly puttering around the house, doing the odd bit of cleaning, not that the house really _needed_ it. Myka was nothing if not meticulous and so somehow despite her insane schedule during the summer still found time to make sure that everything was clean and in its place. Idly, Helena collected a small pile of clothes from the bathroom, emptied out the other hampers and put a load of laundry in the washer, Trailer slowly padding behind her, happily following her every step. 

She wasn’t sure what did it, what made her think it, whether it was the ease with which she just _knew_ where everything was to do the laundry or the simple fact that she felt like these were also her chores to do, it hit Helena like a wave crashing over the shore that Myka’s house had become home. She had little desire to ever be at her apartment, most of her things had migrated up here anyway so there wasn’t really a need, and if she was perfectly honest, she simply felt more at ease at Myka’s. She didn’t know when it had happened, how things had shifted so quickly, but now that they had…she had no idea how she was ever going to let it go.

**

Myka would only hear of Helena missing one more day of work in the name of taking care of her, and even then it was only after a great deal of bickering and further adamant declarations of her _fineness_. By the end of the week, Myka had taken to setting three alarms, including one all the way across the bedroom, thus forcing Helena to actually get out of bed in order to turn it off in order to get her point across that Helena needed to go to work.

“This is entirely unnecessary,” Helena huffed as she practically stomped across the room, laying a firm hand against the alarm clock.

Myka propped herself up in bed, arching an indignant eyebrow Helena’s way, “At some point, Wolly will turn on me and claim that I’m the one demanding you stay home and that is a conversation I have no desire to have, therefore, I am simply doing what I have to do.”

“And what you have to do is jar me out of a nice, peaceful sleep and drag me across the room with a blaring alarm?”

“Are you going to go to work today?” Myka asked evenly.

Helena rolled her eyes with a sigh, “ _Yes_.”

“Then it worked.”

“You are very much _not_ my favorite person right now, Myka Bering.” Helena jerked her bathrobe off of its hook on the closet door and threw it around her shoulders.

Myka smirked, swinging herself out of bed, “I could join you in there…make your return to daily life a little bit more palatable…”

Helena halted Myka’s movements with one swift look. She pointed towards the bed, “While you might be forcing _me_ to go to work, _you_ are still not cleared to do so, therefore back in bed.”

“Doctor’s orders said nothing about not showering with my girlfriend.”

Helena couldn’t fight back the slow rush of blood into her cheeks, “Yes, well, I have a feeling Dr. Calder would agree with me, regardless.”

“This is punishment for the alarm clock isn’t it?”

The corner of Helena’s mouth quirked with a dangerous glint, “Possibly…”

“You are positively evil.”

Helena clutched a hand dramatically to her chest, “You wound me.”

“You aren’t the one sitting here languishing under the weight of rejection and a concussion.”

“Bloody hell, you are full of it this morning.”

“This is what happens when I’m not allowed to work…”

“What on earth must happen to you in the winter then…”

The look that crossed Myka’s face marked an immediate end to their playful banter. All it took was that one word…winter…the tiniest of mentions towards the time of year they refused to acknowledge for all of the air in the room to suddenly feel stifling. A blank, almost haunted look chased through Myka’s eyes as she leaned back down into the pillows, an absent hand stroking Trailer’s head. 

Helena opened her mouth to say something, _anything_ , but instead she slipped into the hallway in utter silence, her stomach roiling with discomfort.

**

Their goodbye that morning was slightly stiff, a little stilted, both of them clearly feeling the impact of the words they were dancing around but continuing to utterly ignore even existed, denying the fact that it might be helpful if they actually _spoke_ them. 

Helena leaned down to where Myka was propped on the couch with her laptop and carded her fingers gently through her curls, placing a small kiss to her mouth, “You’re sure you’re alright?”

Myka’s smile was small, faint, barely existent, “I promise, I’m good.”

“Ok…” Helena stood awkwardly, trying desperately to stall, not wanting to leave Myka at all, let alone like this. Eventually, she sighed and grabbed her bag from where it lay abandoned behind the couch, “If you need anything…”

The effort it took for Myka to give her a more genuine smile was palpably evident, “I’ll call. Hel…please, try and have a good day at work, ok? You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I make no such promises on either count.”

“Either way, I appreciate the effort.”

**

The lull after lunch was all it took for Helena’s brain to rebel against the thought-resistant wall she had thrown up the second she had walked into the kitchen. She had too much to do, too many things to catch up on, too many things to plan out to allow herself the luxury of wallowing in worry and fear for what she knew was coming, and coming quickly. At some point, the dam she and Myka had put up would break and they would have to talk and she was terrified of what the results of that conversation would be. 

She threw herself into the rhythms of the kitchen, determined to let the peace which usually suffused her in this space win out over every other emotion striving for her attention at the moment. Once the lunch rush was finished though…her hard fought resilience dissipated. Rather than wrestle with it, she opted for letting instinct take over. She placed some of the extras leftover from lunch, along with several of the blueberry cobbler bars she had made that morning, into one of the Grand’s yellow boxes and yelled to Wolly that she would be back in an hour’s time.

To say that she was immensely frustrated but not at all surprised when she got to Myka’s house and found it empty would have been an understatement. When she left the Grand, she had debated just checking the stables first, but she had opted to hope that Myka would prove her wrong. Opening the door and finding nothing in the house except an overly excited Trailer was all the evidence she needed that Myka had officially reached her limit on doctor’s orders and, if you asked Helena’s opinion, common sense.

Claudia was the first person to see Helena enter the stables, which she made known to everyone within hearing distance by shouting, “Oh shit…” and immediately trying to pull out her phone and feverishly text.

Helena rolled her eyes, “Do not bother, Claudia. Warning or not, it will not exactly matter.”

“She’s just been doing paperwork.” Claudia held a hand up, “I solemnly swear.”

“That you are both up to no good, I would assume.”

“Oh, gettin’ at me with the Potter references. How can I compete with that?”

“You can’t and do not think that I have not noticed you texting behind your back.”

Claudia shrugged with a playful smile, “Gotta have the cap’s back.”

“I’m sure she is grateful for the reinforcements.” Helena squeezed Claudia’s shoulder lightly as she passed, “Excellent diversion tactics, darling.”

“I do my best.”

Helena had barely made it in the door of Myka’s office before she was being assaulted by a barrage of rambling from Myka. She swiveled in her desk chair quickly, hands held up in surrender, “I know you’re pissed and I know I shouldn’t be here, but I was going insane, Hel. There is only so much laundry I can do or books I can read or walks I can take Trailer on. I feel fine, no headaches, nothing, I’m good.”

Helena wanted to be mad, wanted to be frustrated, wanted to be anything of what she should be feeling in the face of her girlfriend making a potentially unhealthy decision, but watching Myka ramble, the way her hands were veritably flailing with her words, all she could do was laugh, which brought an immediate halt to Myka’s verbal assault.

“You’re laughing…”

Helena shook her head, shifting a pile of papers on the corner of Myka’s desk so she could slide onto it. With her free hand, she caught one of Myka’s, toying with ring around Myka’s middle finger, “You’re quite cute when you ramble…”

Myka’s cheeks pinked, “You could probably call that self-preservation.”

“Oh you turn on the charm to prevent me from being mad at you, is that it?”

“You’d be surprised how quickly I’ve mastered that maneuver in four months.” 

“You’re lucky that I find it near impossible to be mad at you anyway.” Helena squeezed Myka’s hand gently, skimming her thumb over Myka’s knuckles, “I can’t say I’m shocked. I figured you would be here…”

“I was going a bit stir-crazy.”

“You’re sure you feel ok?”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t be here.”

Helena leveled Myka with an incredulous glare.

“I swear, Hel. I would go home if I felt even remotely off, but I feel good.”

Helena nodded swiftly, “Well, you’ll feel even better once you eat this.” She slid the box across Myka’s desk, “If I can’t make you follow doctor’s orders, at least I can keep you fed.”

“You spoil me.” Myka tucked happily into the box in front of her, letting out a contented sigh, “This is ridiculously good and exactly what I needed.”

“I figured as much.” Helena shifted awkwardly on the desk, as silence descended around them. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, but the vestiges of the morning were still there, hovering around the edges. She pushed her hair back from her forehead, “Myka…I’m sorry…I’m sorry for being so…what I’m sure has come across as _obnoxious_ and overprotective this week, and I’m sorry for this morning…”

“Hey…” Myka brushed her fingers against her napkin and slid her desk chair over so that she was directly in front of Helena. She rested her chin atop Helena’s knee, looking up at her with a tiny smile, “You don’t need to apologize. You have been anything _but_ obnoxious, and ok, _yes_ , maybe a little overprotective, but sometimes I need that. I will be the first to admit that I can be stubborn and having you there this week to combat that stubbornness…well…it was necessary and a hell of a lot more enjoyable than if it were Jane ordering me to stay home.”

Helena chuckled softly, fingers toying with some of Myka’s curls, “I enjoy your stubbornness.”

“I know you do.” Myka tilted a kiss to the side of Helena’s knee, “As for this morning…” Myka’s voice died away quietly.

“We’re running out of time, Myka…”

“I know.”

“I don’t…I don’t know how to have this conversation.” Helena could barely bring herself to look at Myka while she let the words slip out.

“That makes two of us. Sometimes…times like this morning…I feel like we’re on the cusp and we should just get it over with and then my heart overrides my brain and I just can’t make myself force the issue. Part of me feels unbelievably selfish for that…for just wanting to take each moment for what it is, rather than living within the reality that there’s a clock ticking in the background.”

Helena bit the inside of her cheek, forcing the tears that she felt welling up to remain at bay. Regardless of whether or not they both acknowledged that they needed to have this conversation, _now_ was certainly not the time; not when she needed to get back to work, not in the middle of Myka’s glassed in office, not when Myka was still recovering, not now, not now, not now. She gave a small, playful tug to the curl she had around her finger. When Myka looked up at her, she smiled as genuinely as she could, “It’s not selfish, love. I’ve been doing the same thing, wanting to just savor it, to appreciate the seconds we have, to not tarnish any moment of happiness with something that could shatter it.”

“So what do we do?”

“For now? For now, you’re going to finish your lunch and I’m going to go back to work, or I will be woefully behind on dinner preparations. You are going to work _a little longer_ and then go home and rest. I’ll be home later, we’ll have dinner, we’ll…we’ll see where the night takes us.”

“That sentence usually holds much more pleasant promises…”

Helena smirked, “Yes, well, you never can tell with me, can you?”

“No, and I must say I like it that way.” Myka stood carefully, steadying herself with her hands on Helena’s knees. She closed her eyes for a second, whispering, “I’m good, I just need a sec.”

“Reading my mind now are we?”

“Tell me you weren’t going to ask if I was ok and I will leave and go home right now.”

“Touché, darling.”

When Myka opened her eyes, their green was so crystal clear that it made Helena forget to breathe. Myka tangled their fingers together with a light squeeze, “We’ll get there, I promise.”

Helena wasn’t sure whether she was talking about the conversation which was hurtling towards them like a train gone off the rails, about October’s inevitabilities, or both, either way the assurance, the surety in Myka’s voice somehow stilled the rapidity of Helena’s heartbeat. She tipped her forehead against Myka’s, “The view down here is quite lovely, you know.”

“It better be, that’s one hell of a cliff we jumped off of.”

Helena laughed quietly, “I’ll see you at home, later?”

“I’ll be there.”

“You’re sure you won’t still be here? Pouring over all the paperwork you keep telling me you’re behind on?”

Myka rolled her eyes, “I will go home early, I promise.”

Helena leaned in and kissed Myka softly, “Keep an eye out for kicking horses.”

“I’ll try my best.”

**

By the end of the week, the strain of returning to work full time had taken its toll on Myka to the point that the second that they had finished dinner Friday night, Helena had practically shoved her into the bedroom and ordered her to bed. Helena took it as evidence of just how exhausted Myka was that she didn’t put up even the remotest amount of a fight, nor did she try to persuade Helena to join her with any number of her usual delaying tactics. Myka simply crawled under the covers and was asleep almost immediately, but not before she had grabbed Helena’s hand as she was leaving the room, offering her a devastating smile and whispering, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Helena’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. How could they keep doing this? Going on like this without any thought to the future, to the consequences? However, if sitting in Myka’s office over lunch wasn’t the time, then this certainly wasn’t either, with Myka half asleep and still recovering. She leaned down and left a lingering kiss to Myka’s already sleepy lips, “There is no place I’d rather be, my love. Get some sleep, I’ll be in soon.”

As she left the bedroom, Helena knew that _soon_ would be a relative term that night. Her muscles were exhausted, her body was ready to do nothing more than curl up next to Myka and slip into oblivion, the week had taken its own kind of toll on her, but her mind refused to stop buzzing, spinning over and around all of the things she and Myka had spent the week avoiding. She knew that if she followed Myka to bed, all she would do was lay there contemplating all the ways that this could go wrong, all the reasons why having avoided the conversation for so long would end up screwing them in the end, all of the things she wished she could say to Myka without any semblance of an idea of how to say them.

Surprisingly, Trailer had not immediately followed Myka into bed but instead had stayed up, tracking Helena’s movements through the house, seeming slightly restless himself. In an effort to not wake Myka up with their pacing, Helena decided to take advantage of the still warm night air and try to clear her head on the patio. 

Once outside, Trailer was immediately uninterested in allowing Helena to relax, to do anything other than play with him, coming up beside where she was stretched out on one of Myka’s deck chairs and dropping one of his tennis balls square in her lap with a small kind of smile stretching the corners of his mouth.

Helena laughed softly, rubbing at his ears, “Fetch at ten o’clock at night?”

Trailer’s only response was to wag his tail harder and nudge her thigh with his nose. 

“Alright…you win.” Helena stood and lofted the ball across the yard, startling a bit at how quickly Trailer bounded after it. 

Helena allowed the mindlessness of the back and forth lull her into the presence of mind she was looking for, allowed the steady rhythm of it to chase away the cascade of thoughts that she refused to let take up permanent residence in her brain. She got so lost in the solitary comfort of her and Trailer’s little backyard bubble that she didn’t notice Wolly watching them from across the fence until his voice jarred her back into reality.

“You look comfortable here…”

It wasn’t a question, there wasn’t even an ounce of hedging or hesitation in his tone. It was a crystal clear fact, a fact stated with a world of weight behind it that drew Helena up short. Trailer dropped the ball once again at her feet, but this time it went unnoticed as she attempted to make Wolly retreat from the conversation with one look alone, but he was having nothing to do with her vain efforts.

He rested his forearms against the top of the fence, “I must say, when I invited you up here, _all of the times_ , I invited you up here, this was never the image I imagined I would get.”

“Regretting the invitation?” The syllables felt brittle on Helena’s tongue, though she knew that Wolly was entirely undeserving of her snappishness, yet somehow his words, his brazenness at just _forcing_ her into the conversation grated at her nerves.

“Not in a million years…if anything it confirms to me why I was right in pushing the issue all along.”

The warmth in Wolly’s tone, the small smile he gave her helped some of Helena’s annoyance ebb. She settled across from him along the fence, “Yes, well…who knows if this is where I would have found myself had I accepted the invitation sooner.”

“Somehow, I have a feeling this is where you would have wound up no matter what.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “You and your fondness for _fate…_ ”

“Can I help that the universe wants what it wants?”

_The universe…_ Helena fought back a scoff in the back of her throat. If the fucking universe wanted her and Myka to be together so badly then it wouldn’t have molded itself in such a way as to plant their lives four states and hundreds of miles apart from each other. If this had been the universe’s plan all along, well then as far as Helena was concerned, the universe could bugger off.

“You told me once,” Helena’s words caught in her throat slightly, forcing her to pause, wait, try again to put what she was thinking into proper words. “You told me once that you thought mentioning the mere idea of Myka to me was a frivolous, pointless thing given what you knew of us both…”

“I did…”

“And now you’re standing here talking to me about fate and how comfortable I look and you’re leveling me with this _look_ like everything’s how it’s supposed to be and how the bloody hell is that supposed to make sense?”

Wolly sighed roughly, waiting, seeming to weigh each word as he let it slip past his lips, “When I said those things…it was when you and Myka were a mere… _concept_. I had no idea…absolutely no bloody idea…what to expect when that concept became reality. I did think it was pointless, Hel…” His voice cracked, wrapped tightly with a heightened level of emotion that left Helena staggered. “I knew you and I knew her, and I knew the hell you both had been through and I just…I never imagined that you would actually find your way to each other, let alone be so goddamn happy when you did. Watching the both of you this summer...I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“We still haven’t talked about it…” It was a vague non-sequitar but Helena felt as though if she didn’t actually say it out loud she might explode. Even if she couldn’t talk about it with Myka yet, she needed to talk about it with _someone_.

“I figured as much. Who the hell wants to have that conversation?”

It was said with enough teasing reality to draw laughter from Helena’s lungs, “Precisely.”

“Well…” Wolly raked his fingers back through his hair, ruffling it at the back, a distracted mannerism he had had when he was thinking for as long as Helena had known him. “I suppose it’s my turn to say that you told _me_ once that you could _very much want_ a love like the kind that Myka wanted if you found the right person.”

“She is the right person. She is _the only_ person.” This time there was no hesitation in Helena’s voice, no pausing to think through what she was saying. She might not have any idea how to solve the particular problem of time and distance and a mere months old relationship, but she did know definitively how she felt about Myka and that that feeling was irrevocable, that it had somehow changed her unquestionably…permanently.

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“He says as though it’s that simple…”

“I am very much aware how _not simple_ this is, but do you know what makes it even less simple? Even more complicated? Spending all of your time out here talking to me about it, rather than talking to her.”

“We still have time…” It was a pathetic attempt at a justification, particularly when her own words to Myka from earlier in the week resounded back through her head. Hadn’t she been the one to say they were running out of time? And now here she was using that very same quickly slipping time as a reason for why they could still avoid the inevitable.

“You do, but it’s waning, Hel. There’s no denying that and the more you do, the more you put this off, the worse it will be. You keep putting this conversation off…” His gaze stole away from Helena, unable to say what needed to be said directly to her, grimacing almost as if it hurt him to actually get it out, “If you don’t talk about it, you’re just going to be barreling towards disaster.”

“Boy, that’s encouraging.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me, even when you hate me. I can see it in your eyes.” Wolly reached a hand out and cradled it over one of Helena’s with a soft squeeze. “You have made it a hallmark of our friendship to consistently and adamantly tell me what to do, and I wish more than anything that I could do the same for you in this situation, but I can’t. It’s up to you and Myka and all I can do is tell you what I see in front of me and that is the simple truth that you seem happy here, happier than I can ever remember seeing you before.”

“I am. I never imagined that I could be. I thought this whole place would feel like a prison by the end of the summer and now…now I don’t know how I can leave.”

There was the slightest pause, the barest hint that for once Wolly might not actually say the obvious thing, but it didn’t last. He dipped his head down to catch Helena’s eye, “Who says you have to leave?”

Helena was powerless to stop the tears that had been building up the longer they talked. Finally they just spilled over and through her words, “My _life_ , Wolly. I have a business and a partnership and there are just so many… _bloody details_. It can’t be as simple as just saying ‘I guess I’m not leaving’…even if that is exactly what I would want, even if that is possibly, maybe, what Myka could want.”

There was nothing else to say, no way to respond, and so Wolly just tipped his forehead against Helena’s, kissing it softly and then he simply stood there, holding her awkwardly across the fence row, rubbing a gentle hand against the back of her head as she finally let loose everything that she had been holding in from the very first moment Myka had kissed her all those months ago.

**

Over the next week, Myka and Helena practically perfected the art of _avoidance_. There were opportunities, _more than enough_ opportunities to have it out, to get everything they were thinking, questioning, doubting, out on the table and just have it done with, but whenever they skated close to that line, the other did something to swerve, to continue avoiding the cliff they were barreling so spectacularly towards. 

They reveled, _too much_ , in their normalcy, the routine that had taken over their lives as the summer had worn on. Helena focused on making sure that Myka was feeling better, on leaving the next round of dessert filled boxes in the refrigerator for Myka to find when she packed her lunch, on the Labor Day party that she and Wolly were planning at the Grand. Myka dove back into work, pleading that she was behind because of her time off, she spent hours at the stables, she ran, she came home and collapsed into bed with Helena never ceasing to be grateful that she was just _there_. They took their days off together, they went out on Myka’s boat, they hiked, they sprawled across Myka’s living room doing nothing but reading and playing with Trailer. They somehow convinced themselves that their lives, their _life_ together was normal, with no uncertainty, no complications, nothing that could shatter the peaceful rhythm they had found.

Yet, reality had a way of catching up with avoidance and eventually there was no routine, no rhythm that could make them ignore what was coming. All it took for reality to come crashing back through the plate glass bubble they had built around their relationship was for the first person of the summer to leave. 

**

“I feel like you just got here, _how_ is it the middle of August already?” Claudia pathetically looped her arms around Liam’s waist from behind, her chin resting on his shoulder with a pathetically comical frown.

Liam tipped his head to kiss her cheek, “Time flies when you’re having fun, right?”

“Oh Jesus, it must be time for you to go back to work. You’re slipping into calming screaming elementary school kid clichés.” Steve smiled endearingly at Liam, settling into his side with a nervous ease. They seemed calm, content, at peace with Liam’s inevitable absence, just another cycle of their regular relationship schedule, but there was still _something_ that hovered beneath the surface, a hesitation to admit that no matter how routine it was, it didn’t keep it from being difficult.

They were all gathered in Jane’s backyard, contentedly stuffed from the massively elaborate dinner that Jane had just filled them with. There had been plates and plates laden with every single food that Liam had ever mentioned enjoying in the past, accompanied by a steady flow of alcohol which left them all sleepily sated and comfortable. It was a yearly tradition they had, something that Jane insisted they do because they were _family_ and you didn’t just let a family member leave without a proper sendoff, and so every summer when the calendar flipped over its days to mid-August, she planned and she planned for Liam’s going away party. She never tired of it, none of them did, relishing the comfort of it, the steady surety that their traditions gave to their constantly ebbing and flowing lifestyle. These little moments were touchstones for each of them, something to cling to in the midst of so much uncertainty. 

The soft pulse of music echoed around the yard which was awash in the light of hundreds of twinkle lights which were looped around and through the canopies of her garden, making it feel as though they had all descended into their own private oasis, where no one or nothing could disturb the sanctity of their group. They sprawled themselves out across deck chairs and pillows while Pete got a fire going and Myka and Kelly helped Jane with the dishes that had accumulated across the table she had set up in the yard. 

Helena was comfortably ensconced in a chair between Wolly and Fargo, but she was having trouble keeping track of their conversation, despite how often they attempted to pull her back into it. She would have been lying if she said she wasn’t having a perfectly _lovely_ time, yet she also would have been lying if she said that the whole thing didn’t make her feel mildly sick to her stomach. It was too much _reality_. It was too much of everything she had been fighting against for the last two weeks. Liam leaving, the dynamics of their group shifting, the recognition that summer was coming to an end if Liam had to return because he had to prepare for the new school year, it was all too much of a dose of feeling as though she and Myka were _next_.

It was a foolish thought, because if anything they were _last_. That had become painfully obvious as Liam’s impending departure seemed to spur a string of conversations about what everyone’s plans were with the coming of fall. 

“I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that this is your _last_ summer, Claud. I refuse to accept it,” Myka said as she settled down on the lawn in front of Helena’s chair, leaning back against Helena’s knees. She tipped her head back and offered Helena a contented smile before returning her attention to Claudia.

“Oh come on Mykes, your little girl has to spread her wings and _fly_.” Pete threw his hands out dramatically to match the saccharine tone he had put into his voice.

“You are the weirdest human being, Lattimer and I regret that my leaving will leave Myka with one less person to defend herself against your antics.”

“Two less,” Todd grinned, bumping his shoulder against Claudia’s. He gave her a secretive smile, “Wanna tell them?”

“Oh God you two are getting hitched…” Kelly gasped. 

“No!” Instantaneously and in unison Claudia and Todd shook their heads fiercely.

Myka chuckled, “God, you two, try and be a _little more adamant_ about that.”

“ _No_ ,” Claudia reiterated. “Dude, we just got out of college, pump the brakes. No, we, we got a place in Grand Rapids, nothing special, but it’s perfect for us, since we both just found out we got jobs there…”

A cacophony of shouts of congratulations and applause echoed around the backyard. 

Claudia eventually extricated herself from the attention, rolling her eyes, “We seriously do nothing, react to _nothing_ in a small, calm way…”

“Never,” Steve grinned.

“You all are insane,” Claudia beamed, “and we are going to miss you all like crazy.”

“Hey! None of _your_ goodbyes tonight. You’re still here for two and a half more weeks, you can do this,” Myka waved a hand around trying to encapsulate whatever _this_ meant, “at your own going away party.”

_Two and a half weeks_. Those were the only words Helena could process. Liam left the next day, and then the day after Labor Day, Claudia and Todd would follow behind. Their group already felt smaller, somehow diminished at the mere thought of any kind of absence. Helena didn’t know when it happened, when she had started to think of all of them as her _family_ , when they stopped just being acquaintances, just friends, but part of her life, but the prospect of that changing, it made her want to flee the backyard and find a ferry and just get out now because _how_ was she going to survive all of these goodbyes, knowing that they all led up to her own at the end of October?

The feeling of Myka’s hand reaching up and linking with hers where it sat on her knee barely pulled Helena out of her thoughts. She idly ran a thumb over Myka’s fingers, willing herself to find some kind of grounding in Myka’s touch, but she felt herself already ebbing back away.

Across the fire, Fargo cleared his throat, shooting a questioning glance between Steve and Myka. Helena felt Myka nod against her knees, and Helena realized distractedly in the back of her mind that this was news she was already clued in on. 

Fargo sat forward, resting his elbows against his knees with a shy kind of smile, “Since we’re all in the spirit of sharing news, I might as well throw mine in too. I will _not_ be having a going away party this year, because…I’m staying.”

This time the cacophony that resounded was one of amazement, surprise, and excitement.

Fargo’s smile was a bit crooked, his tone slightly self-deprecating as he practically beamed at Myka and Steve. “One of the guys who usually works full time with Myka is retiring this summer and she asked if I’d like to stay on, and well, I love it here, so…”

“So you’re becoming one of us!” Pete shouted, pumping a fist in the air. “Year rounder, baby! _That’s my boy!_ ”

Claudia shook her head, almost with a hint of tears in her eyes, “Fargo, are you sure you want to live near _that_ year in and year out?”

“Eh,” Fargo shrugged playfully, “I’m kind of used to it by now.”

Something passed unspoken between Claudia, Todd, and Fargo, while the rest of them tried to give them some kind of privacy in the moment. There had been talk all summer of what the three of them would do, where they would go, a kind of underlying assumption that wherever they went they would go together, but Myka had told Helena that when she offered Fargo the job, he hadn’t even hesitated. He had told Myka that of course he would miss Claudia and Todd, that of course he had thought about following them into whatever weird techy future they found for themselves, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He loved them, but he knew he couldn’t tie himself to them like that without somehow getting hurt. It was the first and only time that he had owned up to and given voice to whatever lie between him and Claudia, or what _didn’t_ lie between them, and so Myka had happily, gratefully told him that he had a home here, with them, if he wanted it, and she was thrilled that he did.

When Myka had told Helena about Fargo’s decision, outwardly she had been ecstatic, because it was truly the best situation for everyone involved and she was glad that Fargo had been able to find his own path, one that made him happy. Inwardly though, she had crumpled, just a bit, because, if she was being honest, she was jealous. Jealous that Fargo was in a position for that decision to just be _easy_. Jealous that Fargo was in a position to have Myka ask him to _stay_. Jealous that Fargo even had that option before him, that his life was still at a point of being so wide open that he could make the decision without worrying about consequences and change. She had known she was being irrational, known that there were a million reasons why Myka couldn’t ask her that question, a million reasons why neither of them could broach that topic yet, a million reasons why it could never be that easy for them. Yet there she had sat, cuddled up on the couch with Myka feeling irrationally jealous, knowing that deep down, Myka knew exactly what she was thinking, but couldn’t bring herself to say anything about it either.

Once again, Helena forced herself out of her internal reverie, forced herself to pay attention to what was being said around her. It was pointless to lose herself in those thoughts, because all it meant was losing more _time_. What good did it do to dwell on endings, when they were still _here_? If she spent the whole night pondering what was to come she would only miss out on what was still right in front of her.

Next to them, Jane let out a soft sigh as she took a drink of her wine, “My dear summer children…what on earth will I do with myself when I don’t constantly have going away parties to throw?”

Liam chuckled and leaned over to place a kiss on Jane’s cheek, “You will always have mine. Steve and I aren’t going anywhere.”

“Man, it’s not like Claudia and I are disappearing off the face of the planet here guys.” Todd’s tone was playful, a fast attempt to draw them all back from the nostalgic precipice that they seemed to be hovering over. “If you really think you’re going to get rid of us that quickly, you’re all crazier than I thought.”

“He’s right. It’s like you guys have never heard of _vacation_ before. There will be plenty of parties to come. Sorry, Jane, you’re never going to be off the hook for those.” Claudia winked playfully at Jane, helping to ease some of the heaviness that had started to descend over them.

“Lord, I am going to be ninety years old and all of you will still be crowding into my house and demanding dinner.”

“Hey, hey, hey, we never demand,” Pete admonished.

Jane leveled him with a steady stare, “The rest of them may not, but you, dear son, most definitely do.”

“You’re my mom! Isn’t that like my sonly privilege?”

“Oy, Claudia, Todd is there a job in the city for my son too?”

“I love you Mrs. L., but that man child is _all yours_ for the rest of time.”

Jane rolled her eyes dramatically, “Well then maybe _I’ll_ move to Grand Rapids with you.”

“No you don’t!” Myka exclaimed, “You cannot leave him to me and Kelly. No way.”

“The Petester is starting to feel ganged up on here…”

Kelly chuckled and plastered a sloppy kiss to Pete’s cheek, “You should feel flattered, we’re all fighting over custody of you.”

“Somehow that makes me feel worse…”

“Somehow that makes me feel like Pete is _my son_ , which makes _me_ feel worse,” Myka quipped.

The conversation circled on and on around Helena, but Jane’s words were still running rampant around her head. _My dear summer children…_ That’s what they were, a moment captured in time, in a season, where by some chance the sun circled them with warmth and with the carefree promise that it might always be like this. Yet, that was just another foolish thought to chalk up with the rest of the ones she’d been having that night. She knew it, they all knew it, it was right there flowing underneath their running jokes and their playful banter. Things were changing. They were changing, and how they were tonight…it might never be like that, like this, again.

**

As the night wore on and the alcohol flowed a bit more liberally, one of them, Helena couldn’t pinpoint exactly who, decided that it was high time that the speakers matched their voices and suddenly there was music pulsing steadily through Jane’s backyard loud enough that Helena absently feared cops on horseback showing up and telling them to tone it down. She watched idly as Todd and Claudia twirled around the lawn turning it into a makeshift dance floor, watched as they laughed and joked and seemed as though life was absolutely perfect, and she realized…for them…it was. This had been their plan. They had spent their summers here and built their relationships and found their paths, and now they could leave with a joy that might be bittersweet but was certainly complete. They were together, their paths weren’t divergent, they were quite clearly running in the same direction and she quietly, absurdly envied them for it.

Trying to find some sort of solace in what felt like a shared fate, her focus turned to Steve and Liam where they stood across the yard, beers in hand, also seemingly entirely at ease. Yet, having spent the whole summer with them, Helena could sense the differences that hovered around the edges. They shared small, gentle touches more often than usual, a hand against the small of a back, a peck to the cheek, fingers lingering on skin whenever they touched. It wasn’t that they weren’t usually affectionate, but somehow, tonight, there was more, as if they were trying to get in as many tiny moments as possible, storing them up to get them through the weeks that lie ahead when they would be much too far away to touch. She realized that all night they’d barely left each other’s sides, as though they couldn’t bear to lose one minute, one second of the precious time they had left. 

She was so lost in her reverie that she didn’t even notice that Liam had, for once, broken away from Steve and was suddenly standing in front of her, hand extended with a soft smile on his face, “May I have this dance?”

Helena rolled her eyes slightly, “Such a gentleman…”

“Well, you seemed deep in thought, if I’m an unwelcome intrusion…”

“No,” Helena stood quickly, her palm warm in Liam’s hand. “No, quite the opposite actually.”

Liam smiled warmly, spinning her into a small turn before pulling her in close enough for their voices to not carry throughout the yard, “You looked like you could use a bit of a distraction.”

Somewhere along the way, Helena and Liam had grown close over the summer. She wasn’t quite sure what had caused it, but she hadn’t questioned it, in fact, she had found deep joy in it, having someone that she could talk to who felt separate from everything with her and Myka, someone who didn’t bring some sort of emotional investment to the table. She found that in this moment, Liam might actually be the one person she wouldn’t mind revealing some of her heart to, though when she responded it was still with a bit of a hedge, “I don’t know how you do it…you and Steve.”

Liam chuckled softly, “I hate to say that we’ve gotten used to it…but I don’t know…it sucks, but we’ve survived so far, and it’s only a month…”

“He says without _a hint_ of sadness in his voice,” Helena teased.

“Used to it or not, that doesn’t mean it’s not hard, that I’m not dreading the morning, that I purposely didn’t wear my watch so I wouldn’t just stare at the time.”

“Doesn’t it get exhausting, the constant change?”

“Sometimes, but…” Liam hesitated for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for Helena to see his eyes shift, refocus on her in a way that made her suddenly nervous. He squeezed her hand lightly, “Do you remember what I told you that first night? That first dinner party?”

“‘You do what you have to do if you love someone.’” The words flew out faster than Helena anticipated, but from the moment Liam had said it to her, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about them.

A small laugh skated through Liam’s lips as he tucked a kiss to Helena’s cheek, “I figured you’d remember. I think you thought you were being subtle that night, during that conversation, all those stolen looks Myka’s way…”

“I didn’t think I was being subtle at all. You, my fair Liam, were just too polite of a gentleman to say anything.”

“I figured it’d be a poor first impression.”

“Ever the portrait of decency, you are.”

“Yeah, well, you might not think that in a few minutes.” He pushed Helena softly out into a gentle turn, letting out a sigh as he pulled her back in, “You two have something. You two have something that, well, seems a hell of a lot like what I found with Steve, what Kelly, God bless her, found with Pete.”

Helena felt color rush into her cheeks, tears start to sting behind her eyes, “As foolish as it seems after such a short time, I believe we have.”

“You love her.” It wasn’t a question, not even close to one.

“I do, incredibly so.”

“Then I am just going to say it, because, well, I might be polite, but I’m also honest. I’ve seen you tonight…how quiet you’ve been, how nervous you seem, and, just, Helena, do not run away from this just because it’s hard. The hard is what makes it great. I know it seems insane, but…a life like this, it can work, and it can be damn near spectacular, if you’re willing to work for it, if you’re willing to not run away from the hard.”

“I just don’t know how we could make it work. You and Steve, your jobs seem to lend themselves to a life like this, they ebb and flow together. Myka and I…we don’t have that.”

“But it doesn’t mean you couldn’t. It doesn’t mean that you couldn’t find some way to make this work, make it work for whatever _your lives_ need. You two can figure it out, I honestly believe that.”

Helena’s gaze stole across the yard to where Myka’s head was tilted back in unchecked laughter, a hand gripped around Pete’s arm as he kept telling whatever story he was currently weaving. Helena’s voice when she found it was winsome, breathy, if she was honest, slightly pathetic, “If anyone is worth it…she is.” 

Wolly tucked a finger underneath Helena’s chin, drawing her back to him with a soft smile, “And I guarantee you, you are worth it to her too. I guarantee you, she would do whatever it took to not lose you.”

Around them, the music shifted into a heavy acoustic twang, eliciting what could only be described as a “yeehaw” from Pete as he pulled Jane quickly into cheesy, exaggerated dance. It was enough of a distraction to pull everyone’s attention and thus bring a shift, though inconclusive end to Helena and Liam’s conversation, both of them laughing too hard to swing back into the heaviness of where they had been. 

Helena was so distracted that she didn’t notice Myka until she was right next to them, smirking at Liam and asking, “May I cut in?”

Liam held Helena’s hand delicately by the fingertips, offering Myka a melodramatic bow, “Of course, mi’lady.”

“My God, you’re _both_ such _nerds_ ,” Myka laughed even as she pulled Helena towards her with a wide smile. Despite the enthusiastic beat of the music, Myka shifted them into an easy sway, one hand solid and sure against Helena’s back, the other clasped tightly around Helena’s. She moved them to the music for a few moments before finally catching Helena’s eye, “You’ve been awfully quite tonight…you okay?”

Helena knew her smile would look forced, knew Myka would see right through every word she said, but she couldn’t do this, not right now. This wasn’t the time for it and so she smiled her fake smile and squeezed Myka’s hand, “Marvelous, darling, just enjoying the night is all.”

“You and Liam seemed deep in conversation.”

“Just reminiscing about the summer is all…”

“He’s going to miss you…” Myka’s voice caught roughly in her throat, but she pushed past it, covered it with a hint of a laugh, “I think he felt like there was finally someone else sane around to keep him company.”

“I’m going to miss him too…you all…you all are a lot to keep in line.”

The only sign that Myka questioned the soft hint of fear and hesitation in Helena’s voice, that she doubted the truth of what had occupied Helena and Liam during their dance, was the subtle creasing of her forehead, but she seemed to know that whatever it was that lay beneath Helena’s thin veneer of comfortable enjoyment, it wasn’t up for discussion, at least not now. In the back of her mind, Myka _knew_ , knew deep in her bones what was circling through Helena’s mind, what was causing her quietness, what had inspired the earnest look on Liam’s face while she watched them talk; she knew because it was the same thing in her mind, Liam was only the beginning…the beginning of the endings, the leaving…and they were both terrified, and struck entirely dumb in the face of it. There was so much to say and absolutely no inspiration to actually _say it_. Myka wondered if she should just start the conversation somehow now, but instead she simply cleared her throat slightly and decided to follow Helena’s lead and just let things lie where they were. Now wasn’t the time…so she didn’t say anything else, just pulled Helena closer, leaving a delicate kiss to her temple, choosing for the moment to just dance.

**

The night wound down slowly but inevitably. Eventually the alcohol was gone, the music had died off, and someone said what had to be said, “Work…tomorrow…”

There were mutual sighs and groans as they moved through the house, each of them seemingly hesitant to begin the goodbyes, because they felt so intensely like _goodbye_. Once one of them left the house, it would officially be the end of something they all had together. The summers would never be like this again, things were shifting, changing, and there was no longer anything they could do to stop it.

Helena hung near the back while the rest of the group doted on Liam, watched with fiercely blinking eyes as eventually everyone’s tears started to flow. _She didn’t want to do this_ …any of it…the goodbyes, the leaving, the changes. It made her palms itch with irritation and the desire to simply run out of the house and never look back spread out through her nervous system like a wildfire. 

Just when she was certain she could not handle the pressure of the room anymore, Liam’s arms enfolded her in what she was positive was the tightest hug she had ever received. All of the air fled her lungs as immediately she returned the gesture with a fervor she hadn’t anticipated. She kissed his cheek with a whispered, “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too.” He pulled away with a few tears clinging to his cheeks which he didn’t even bother to wipe away. He gripped his hands around her shoulders with a light squeeze, “Promise me, you’ll remember what I said.”

“I promise.”

He nodded as if those two words were all the assurance he needed and pulled her in for another hug, “You need _anything_ , you call me. You’re family now…there’s no escaping us, no matter where you live.”

That was all it took for Helena to finally let the tears she had been fighting fall.

**

Myka wasn’t sure things had ever been this awkward between them. Even in the beginning it didn’t feel like _this_ , like they didn’t know how to operate around each other, like they weren’t entirely comfortable in each other’s space. It didn’t matter that Helena’s palm was warm and solid in her own, it didn’t matter that they were returning to Myka’s house without question as though it was already _theirs_ , none of it mattered when compared to the _silence_ that hung around them as thick and heavy as the clouds that were quickly gathering in the sky above them.

She wanted to ask what Liam had said before they left, what it was that had made Helena break down so spectacularly, but she wasn’t sure it was her place, wasn’t sure if she should attempt to break into whatever privacy Helena and Liam had developed over the summer.

She wanted to ask, _again_ , why Helena had been so quiet all night, why for most of the night Helena had kept a bit to herself, never quite seeming content or comfortable, why she wouldn’t just _talk_ to her.

Yet…she didn’t, couldn’t…because she knew once she did…

They’d have to talk about it.  
The leaving.  
October.  
What came next, after.

If she asked Helena, then it would allow Helena to ask her what she was feeling, what she was thinking, and Myka wasn’t sure she was even remotely ready to try to put anything into words.

So, she just kept walking, holding on to Helena’s hand as if she hoped that that would be enough to keep her there.

**

_You could tell her…_

_You could tell her that you’re scared._

_You could tell her that you think it’s worth it._

_You could tell her you don’t want to leave._

_You could tell her that you have to leave…for now, but not forever._

_You could tell her Liam called you family and for the first time in your life you believed in that word._

_You could tell her…actually tell her…that you love her. Love her enough to rewrite your life to make it work, make it fit._

_You could tell her so many things._

Helena didn’t say a word. The entire walk back to Harrisonville, she let words gather in her throat, settle in a lump that had to be forced back down. She wondered if she was actually capable of speech anymore, or if all this night had left her with was an ability to hold Myka’s hand and the cold, dark truth that reality was no longer gaining on them…it was there.

**

Something like courage warred against Helena’s urge to just go to bed the second they walked in the house. She wasn’t sure what it was, but the soft intimacy of the house, _their house_ her mind silently whispered, made her feel like _maybe_ , maybe they could talk about this, maybe they could figure it out and work through details and it didn’t have to turn into the disaster she feared it would be. 

“ _Shit…_ ”

Myka’s voice sharp with some combination of worry and annoyance shattered Helena’s inward focus. Helena blinked fitfully to draw herself back to attention, finding Myka leaning against the kitchen island, one hand idly scratching Trailer’s ear, the other scrolling vigorously across her phone.

“Darling?” Helena asked.

“There’s a storm coming…” Myka said distractedly, more to her phone than to Helena.

As if in answer to Myka, a low rumble of thunder sounded outside, wind beginning to shift through the leaves of the trees in Myka’s front yard. Helena tried to shake off the immediate twist in her gut, the insistent pulse in her brain that told her this somehow felt ominous, like Myka couldn’t possibly be just talking about the weather. She fought back against what she told herself was superstitious ridiculousness and stepped closer to Myka, “Is it a problem? A storm?”

It’d been a surprisingly quite summer for weather, the occasional rain shower, a few blistering weeks of ninety plus temperatures in July, but beyond that, it had been practically picture perfect. Still, Helena had no idea why a sudden thunderstorm had Myka looking so concerned.

As if she barely heard Helena, Myka stepped around her, grabbing her sweatshirt from the back of the couch, “It’s the horses…storms…storms that are as big as this one appears to be, it unsettles them. We’ve had a couple get hurt in the past, so whenever something like this happens, well usually Steve and I rotate who gets the joy of sleeping on a couch at the stables. Technically, it’s his turn, but given Liam…”

“You need to go.” Helena wasn’t sure where the bitterness that was hidden under her words had come from.

The tone in Helena’s voice drew Myka up short, pulling her away from her distracted attention to just getting out of the house and back towards Helena who was leaning against the back of the couch, shoulders stiff, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Myka stepped in front of her, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ears, “Hey…”

Helena waved a distracted hand aimlessly through the air, “I’m sorry, darling, I think I’m just tired.”

“Are you sure? You’ve seemed…I don’t know… _off_.”

“Truly, Myka, I’m fine.” Helena attempted as sincere of a smile as she could muster, leaning in to kiss Myka gently, “You should go, I don’t want anything happening because you lingered here worrying over me.”

“Do I _need_ to be worrying over you?” Myka’s forehead furrowed with concern.

“No,” Helena shook her head with a slightly freer smile. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

“I’m suddenly realizing why you were so frustrated with me when I kept saying that the other week.”

Helena laughed softly, “Yes, well, you insisted then that you were in fact fine, and now it is my turn. Go, love, it’s really ok.”

“You could come…”

As if he knew exactly what Myka had said, Trailer let out a soft huff from where he still sat in the kitchen. Helena shot him a sidelong glance, her first unforced smile of the night pulling at her muscles, “I believe I am needed here.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “He’s pathetic…”

“And in desperate need of some attention after we’ve been gone all night. Go take care of your horses, I will watch over the pup.”

Myka leaned in for another kiss, whispering against Helena’s lips, “You are so very good to us.”

The tone in Myka’s voice sent a dangerous, electric jolt down Helena’s spine. When she found her own voice, all of the previous frustration was gone, replaced by pulse pounding want, “If you don’t go, I might not let you.”

Myka’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment before she stepped out of Helena’s orbit, visibly shaking herself to break free of whatever had so quickly descended around them. Distractedly, she grabbed her bag, “Right…leaving…me…now.”

Helena couldn’t fight back her smirk, “Be careful out there darling, you look a little…shaky.”

“Wicked woman.”

“That’s usually my line.”

Myka didn’t respond to that, couldn’t find the right words to so she simply sent a small wave over her shoulder and wandered back out into the night which had turned wicked in its own right.

As the door shut behind Myka, Helena felt all the playfulness of the previous moment flee out of the house with her. She sank onto the couch, Myka’s words echoing in her head, _“There’s a storm coming…”_

Helena knew there was, she just hoped they’d be able to survive it once it broke.

**

After Myka left, Helena _tried_ to pay attention to Trailer, tried to pay attention to the television, to possibly getting ingredients around to bake, but it was all entirely in vain. The only thing she managed to succeed at was pacing. Back and forth from kitchen to living room, her body taut as a live wire, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. The pacing at least provided some form of exercise for Trailer, he refused to stop following Helena’s footsteps, seeming to pick up on her anxiety and trying his best to calm it by simply being by her side.

Eventually, she was still enough to look at something, anything for more than two seconds and in that time she realized that in her haste to get to the stables, Myka had left her book on the coffee table. Knowing that the night ahead of Myka was a long one with little promise of sleep, Helena knew she would want it. The storm hadn’t yet brought anything other than distant thunder and wind with it and so Helena wondered if she’d have time to get it down to the stables before the rain hit.

Her nerves were rattled enough that immediately upon picking the book up Helena dropped it again. When it hit the floor, a spray of neon colored pieces of paper scattered out from amongst the pages. Helena knelt down to pick them up, her stomach flipping in some combination of adoration and further anxiety. There nestled in the pages of Myka’s book were every last post-it that Helena had left her through the summer. They weren’t in any particular order, just stuck in amongst the pages at random, every single one in as pristine of condition as it was when Helena had stuck them inside their respective boxes. She looked down at Myka’s book and let out a soft laugh. She hadn’t even realized it…Myka was reading _The Time Machine_. The thought that it was here within the pages of Helena’s namesake that Myka had chosen to nestle these small words between them made a lump wedge underneath Helena’s ribs uncomfortably, her heart thudding heavily as though it were suddenly too big for her chest. The idea that Myka had even kept them all in the first place…

She thumbed through each of the notes, remembering each word as if she had just written them. That first note had seemed so innocent, the beginning of a game to keep her occupied through the summer, yet even then she had known it was something more, a shot across the bow of both her and Myka’s resistance. Looking at the words now, their questioning of whether Helena’s purpose on the Island was to show Myka sugar’s wonders, they seemed almost foolish now…now that Helena was damn near certain she had figured out her purpose for being on the Island.

That one thought was enough to force decision into Helena’s mind. She carefully placed the notes back into the spaces from which they’d fallen and tucked the book in her bag. Rain be damned. There was only one place she needed to be tonight. With a distracted apology to Trailer, Helena grabbed an umbrella from the closet and raced out into the ominously darkened night. 

**

The scene that greeted Helena through the windows of Myka’s office was breath-stealing, even in its innocence, its simplicity. Myka was veritably sprawled across her couch, one leg bent at the knee, the other propped on the arm of the couch. Her curls were a messy cascade all around her, her glasses perched haphazardly on the bridge of her nose as she focused diligently on whatever she was writing in the journal she had propped against her knee. 

For one brief moment, Helena just had to stop, to watch, to soak in every second of Myka looking so insanely beautiful, so relaxed. Moments of real calm were a rarity for Myka during the summer, Helena had learned that quite quickly and so to see her here now, like this, she almost didn’t want to disturb her. Yet, there was little that could truly deter Helena from Myka. There was a need pulsing deep in her blood to just _feel_. She wondered if that would be enough of a distraction, wondered if she was pathetic for desiring physical distraction. The way that her heart kept erratically jumping in her chest though, the way that her stomach kept alternating between twisting and swooping, told her that this was more than a distraction. The book was a convenient excuse to be with Myka, next to her, close enough to touch. Helena knew, more than she could even process, that the thing she needed in this moment was to feel, to feel Myka, to feel anything other than this goddamn nagging anxiety and worry. It was more than just a base need, it was more than desire, it was assurance and maybe a glimmer of hope…hope that they could find their way.

All it took to disturb Myka’s peace was for Helena to shift the door open a bit further to get in the room. She sat bolt upright, startled, worry written all of her face. That look only diminished partially when she saw Helena in the doorway. The look that remained was enough to make some of Helena’s surety about the need for this moment ebb back into hesitancy. Maybe Myka needed space, maybe Myka’s own worry about where they were headed didn’t need the closeness that Helena was desperately craving, maybe Helena being there was just going to make things worse.

Helena hovered in the doorway, fidgeting with her fingernails.

Myka’s voice broke the silence with a waver of concern, “Is everything ok? Trailer…”

The worry in Myka’s voice was enough to get Helena moving. The last thing she wanted was to make Myka anxious for absolutely no reason. Swiftly, Helena walked across the room, tugging her bag out from behind her and pulling Myka’s book out. With a shy smile she raised it to Myka’s eye line, “You forgot this. I figured with the night you had ahead of you…”

Ease, _peace_ swept over Myka’s face, a brilliant smile breaking through the worry, “You could have gotten soaked.”

Helena shrugged, placing the book on the arm of the couch where Myka had previously been laying. She let her bag slump to the floor and without conscious thought, with only that _need_ pounding in her chest, she sank onto Myka’s lap, her knees tightly bracketing Myka’s thighs. 

Now it was Myka’s turn to look as though her breath had been sucked right out of her lungs, her eyes widening and darkening simultaneously as Helena settled further into the space of her hips. Instinctively, Myka tucked her hands around Helena’s hips, her fingertips already seeking out skin, her own body already immediately responsive to the overwhelming presence that was Helena. 

Helena could tell that Myka wanted to say something, but Helena didn’t want to talk. They’d spent so much time avoiding talking she wasn’t going to change that now when what she truly wanted, needed, was right there and didn’t require any words. She could tell in the bite of Myka’s nails against her skin that Myka needed this too, could tell in the way Myka’s breathing had already started to quicken. Maybe this was what they both needed, to ground themselves in each other, to let their bodies provide a certainty their words couldn’t.

Helena buried her fingers in Myka’s hair, tugging just enough to elicit a groan from deep within Myka’s throat before she finally closed the minimal gap between them and pressed a fierce kiss to Myka’s parted lips. It was immediately messy, a tangle of tongues clashing against teeth, their hands unable to keep still but continually pushing, pressing, pulling in a desire to be everywhere at once. Myka’s hands gripped Helena’s ass tugging her closer and pulling a harsh moan from Helena’s chest.

When they parted they were both gasping for breath, their lips pulsing deep red. Myka dipped her head and ran her tongue up the side of Helena’s neck, teeth flashing out to quickly nip at Helena’s ear lobe. The jerk of Helena’s hips at the bite of Myka’s teeth was shameless, her breath leaving her in a rush of Myka’s name.

Myka’s voice raced into Helena’s ear, hot and breathy, “What, Helena?”

Helena’s nails sank into Myka’s shoulders, “Touch me.”

Fingers danced from Helena’s neck down to her waist, immediately slipping the button of her jeans loose. Myka’s voice dipped a few notches lower, “As you wish.”

The laughter was inescapable. Helena pulled back with a playful smile, her eyebrow arched in teasing question, “Did you just _Princess Bride_ me?”

Myka’s own smile shifted from predatory to angelic, “It is highly possible your nerdiness has infected me.”

“Well, it’s wildly sexy. You’re enchanting, my love.”

“Let’s stick with the sexy for now,” Myka smirked, her teeth once again flashing in a hungry smile. Myka pulled Helena down for a deep kiss, once again stoking the fire that had momentarily ebbed into embers. Myka licked at the roof of Helena’s mouth, drawing a litany of moans from Helena’s throat, as Myka’s fingers worked to create enough space to actually do what they wanted.

Once begun, Myka moved with swift determination, pressing and pulling in all the ways she knew Helena needed in moments like these. She was relentless in her desire to give Helena everything it seemed she needed from the second she had walked in the office. 

It was fast and tight and Helena was completely breathless by the end, but unable to hold back the scream that fled her throat in perfect concert with the first fierce crack of lightning outside. Thunder rumbled as Myka eased Helena back down into some form of coherency.

Quickly, before any conscious thought could return Helena shifted and laid Myka back on the couch, making her own swift work of Myka’s clothing and need. She tried desperately to drown in the moment, to focus, to give back to Myka as much as Myka had given her. Yet, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t stop the noises of the storm from breaking in, the crackle of lightning and the sky shaking thunder that seemed to pair far too well with their movements.

In those few brief moments, Helena felt as though she and Myka _were_ the storm, and that they just might burn and break from the fire and the pressure.

**

“What did you all say about the stables being an aphrodisiac?” Helena asked in between breaths as she lay curled up against Myka’s shoulder, the heat between them still cooling.

Myka chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Helena’s head, “Must be something in the air in here…”

Outside, the rain that had been coming down in sheets started to ebb, though the storm still promised to rage on through most of the evening. Helena sat up shakily, tugging her clothes back into place carefully. She ran a hand through her hair with a rough sigh.

Myka’s hand rested against the small of Helena’s back, “It’s still raining. You don’t have to go.” There was a small beat, and when Myka spoke again her voice was smaller, “You could stay.”

Helena closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, the weight in her chest that had faded while Myka was pressed against her returned with a vengeance. Those three words…they felt like so much more than a simple invitation to wait out the storm, to entertain one night’s sleep on a too small couch. They felt like everything, an encapsulation of everything they’d been avoiding and everything the last few minutes had meant.

Sliding her feet to the floor, Helena tried to give Myka as tender of a smile as she could muster over her shoulder, “Trailer was quite displeased with me when I left, and I wouldn’t want him to be by himself.”

“How diligently you care for me and my mutt,” Myka grinned, though there was a lingering sadness that couldn’t be chased away by the casual normality of their conversation. She sighed, “You’re right though. I don’t like leaving him all night. I do appreciate you staying with him.”

Helena leaned in for a soft kiss, “Of course, my love.”

Before Helena pulled away, Myka tucked a hand around her neck holding her close, panic suddenly ringing in her ears uncontrollably. She tilted her forehead against Helena’s, “The cliff thing, Hel…you _know_ , right?”

_Do you know I love you?_

The real question hung between them heavy as the air between them. Helena’s lips pulled in a delicate smile, “Of course, I know, darling. Just as I hope you know…”

“I do,” Myka whispered against Helena’s lips, “I do…I do…I do…”

Eventually, Helena made her way out the door, but as much as she knew there was a reason she was leaving, that there was logic behind it…it still felt like _something_ , to be walking away from Myka in the middle of the night. 

_You could stay…_

Myka’s words echoed in the night.

Helena knew she could have, that Trailer would have been fine, and yet…

She left.

**

All it took were three simple words for all hell to finally break loose, for the storm they’d been running from to come crashing down around their shoulders, for the next bit of inevitability in their relationship to catch up to them.

Myka was running late getting to Helena’s after work. She had tried desperately to get out of the stables, but every time she turned around there was something else to do, some small thing that needed to get done, some form to fill out, some schedule to recheck. She told herself she was being diligent, that she was doing what did every summer, yet she knew…she was creating problems to solve just to avoid the actual problem.

When she’d gotten back to the house in the morning after the storm, running ragged and exhausted from a night of little sleep, Helena had been painfully quiet. There were no coy words about the night before, no flirtatious comments, no teasing remarks, nothing but Helena’s marked silence that filled the house as she went about getting ready. 

Myka knew what was coming. They’d been avoiding it for so long that she feared what it would look like once they got there, but she knew they were running out of chances for avoidance. Things had gotten strained, every sentence, every gesture passed between them pulled so tight that she was just waiting for them to snap.

When she finally got to Helena’s she could tell that nothing had changed from the morning. If anything, Helena seemed _more_ tense, clearly annoyed that Myka was late, despite the fact that all summer one or the other of them was _always_ late. Quietly, Myka took the plate from the oven that Helena had left for her for dinner, and sat down at the island to eat, painfully aware of Helena sitting next to her in continued abject silence. 

“Are you ok?” Myka tried to swallow the words down, figure out a way to reform them, mold them into something other than the same three words she felt like she’d been asking Helena for days, but when she tried she came up empty, left with only those three.

Myka watched as Helena’s shoulders tensed beneath her t-shirt, muscles pulling tight for a brief second before sinking back down. Helena gave her a tight smile, “Fine, darling. Tired.”

_Just leave it_. Myka didn’t want to push, didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to hurtle them off of this precipice they’d been precariously tiptoeing around for weeks, but she was tired too, tired of all of the dancing around, the hesitancy, the hedging. Maybe it would be better to just get it fucking over with. 

She sighed a bit roughly, “Are you sure? Because you don’t…you don’t really _seem_ fine.”

The effect was instantaneous. All of Helena’s muscles tensed, her fingers clenching quickly, a grimace tugging at her mouth, “Myka…can we just…not…not right now.”

And just like that…every taught nerve in Myka’s body snapped, every dam built up around her words burst. Myka vaguely registered the sound of her fork clattering against her plate as exasperation wound its way around her words, “If not now, _when_ , Helena? Because, honestly, I’d rather we just did this rather than hovering in this hell we’ve been in lately.”

Helena scoffed lightly, “That’s a lovely way to put it.”

“You know what I mean! You cannot honestly tell me that the last few weeks have been one hundred percent pleasant.”

“What do you want me to say, Myka?” Helena’s words fled her in a rapid burst, her voice rising to a level Myka had never heard before.

“God, _anything!_ Anything other than this…this silence, or just lying to me and saying you’re fine.” Myka stood quickly, pushing away from the island, somehow unable to have this conversation while inhabiting the same space as Helena. 

“Fine… _fine_ …you want something, here’s something. _This is bloody awful_. Watching Liam leave the other night was _bloody awful_ and terrifying and every shade of unimaginable that I could ever fathom. And I feel like I’m _drowning_ because I have no idea what you’re thinking or what we’re going to do about it.”

Myka’s eyes widened in mild shock, she knew there was a way to be rational about all of this, talk about it in a calm manner, but they’d put it off too long, rational was long gone. Her hands waved in frustration, “You don’t think that I’m not feeling the exact same way too? That I’m not just as terrified?”

“How am I supposed to know, Myka? It’s not like you’ve been some beacon of eloquence on the subject lately either.”

“Because I don’t know what to say! There is no solution here, Helena. We have _known_ that from the goddamn beginning. There was only one way this summer ended.”

The words thudded against Helena’s chest with a force that felt almost physical. Was Myka _really_ saying there was no other option? That she hadn’t contemplated any other options before them? Helena willed them back but felt tears rising despite herself as her voice cracked out from her throat, “I would think there were a few more options than one in front of us…”

“How?” Myka’s heart was pounding in her ears so loud she practically couldn’t hear herself. Panic had risen in her blood so quickly that she didn’t know how stem the tide, how to fight back against what she was saying, how to save them from how she knew this sounded, as if this was impossible. She tried to halt her words, but now that they’d started down this path she didn’t know how to stop. Her voice rose with her panic, “How are there more options? Do you still have an apartment in DC?”

The question almost shocked Helena, coming from what felt like nowhere. She stumbled out a hasty, “Yes.”

“Do you still have a restaurant in DC?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Is Nate still expecting you to be back in November?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“So, you’re still leaving in October?”

“…Yes.”

That one syllable hung between them for a few weighted seconds that felt like they went on for hours, until Myka finally let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, “Then…Hel…this is just where we are.”

“That’s unacceptable to me.”

A cross between a groan and a growl fled Myka’s throat, “Helena…”

“No, Myka,” Helena cut across her, stepping into the living room with a forcefulness she hadn’t anticipated, “I refuse to accept that it’s as simple as me leaving and that’s the end of it. There has to be _more_ before us than that.”

The words flew out of Myka’s mouth before she could stop herself, “I cannot ask another person to give up their life for me, Helena.”

It should have brought them back from the brink, Helena knew that. For Myka to confess such a thing, put it out there so vulnerably, it should have made Helena pull back and look at this more calmly, however, to be compared to Sam, to the hell he put Myka through, it just made Helena angrier. Her words snapped out between clenched teeth, “I am _not_ Sam, Myka.”

“I know that…”

“Then don’t treat me like I am.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. You’re assuming that I will have the same reaction that he had. Resentment and leaving you and all of the other ridiculous idiocy that he spewed at you.”

Myka sucked in a deep breath, she didn’t know how to find her way out of this spiral. She dragged her hands through her hair, “None of that changes the fact that you’re life isn’t here, Helena. It’s hundreds of miles away, and nothing can change that.”

A few stray tears fled Helena’s eyes, though her voice was still tight, hard, “ _You_ are _part_ of my life!”

“But what happens when I’m, when _we’re_ not enough? I can’t do that again.”

“Jesus Christ, Myka, you sound like you’re just giving up.”

“No,” Myka’s hands gripped into fists so tight her nails bit into her palms, “I’m not…I just…I don’t…” She paused, sucking in a deep breath hoping to steady herself, “I want so badly to ask you to stay, for that to be the simple answer, but I can’t and I think you know I can’t. I can’t ask you to take that big of a risk after a couple of months. I’d never forgive myself if…” Myka couldn’t even bring herself to finish the thought.

“There has to be something else between asking me to stay and telling me to leave. How can you look at this like it’s just black and white when all summer all we’ve been doing is operating in gray areas?”

“Because I don’t know if I’m strong enough for a lifetime of gray…”

“Jesus, Myka…who said anything about decisions made now being decisions for a _lifetime_? You’re making this too hard!”

“Because it is hard! Because it feels impossible and I have no idea what to say or do because I don’t want to lose you, but God help me I do not want to be the person that ruins your life, and I don’t know what this looks like when you’re gone.” Another groan of frustration raked through Myka’s lungs pulling words out of her that had no logical origin or explanation, “This is why these things are so hard, why I tell all my interns to avoid it.”

“What things?” Helena’s words snapped so sharply they could have chipped her teeth.

“Summer! These summer romances we all fling ourselves into that only lead here!”

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds ticked by from the clock on Helena’s wall. Silence descending so heavy around them it was practically visible, until Helena’s voice emerged, soft, sharp, bitter, broken, “Get out.”

“What?” As if snapping out of a reverie that she hadn’t known she’d fallen under, Myka looked at Helena with some mixture of shock and disbelief.

Helena continued on, eerily calm, dangerously quiet, “If that’s still all this is to you, if that’s what you think of what we have, you need to go.”

“No…Helena…I didn’t…” Myka floundered for words, grasping for them and watching them slip through her fingers, stumbling into an ineloquence that she knew would only cause more damage if she continued.

“I said get out.”

**

Myka rode through the streets of downtown in a haze, vaguely thankful that tourists seemed to be giving her a wide berth so that she didn’t need to worry about accidentally hitting someone.

She had no idea how they’d gotten here, how she had been so stupid, how her words had gotten so catastrophically fucked up, how she had ever even entertained the thought that she and Helena were just like the other summer flings that were currently raging across the Island burning brightly to a lackluster ending. That wasn’t them. That had _never_ been them. From the very beginning they had always been something more, and they’d both known it. Myka knew it the second she had walked onto Wolly’s porch that first night. Helena wasn’t a summer love, an idle passion, a fling, a few months flame that would burn out in time. Helena was…Helena was everything. Everything Myka had ever foolishly hoped for. The love she had assumed had already passed her by. The kind of love that carves arches out of rocks and builds a life together out of crazy dreams and impossible circumstances. The kind of love Pap and Gram had had…

“ _What the fuck am I doing?_ ” Myka didn’t care at all about the looks she got, the small gasp she heard from a couple on the sidewalk who had been close enough to hear her speak out loud.

Myka immediately turned a sharp corner skirting down a back street that ran parallel to Main, pedaling so hard her calves were burning with the exertion.

She barely let her wheels stop before she was off of her bike, letting it fall, wheels spinning on Helena’s sidewalk. 

When the doorknob gave way beneath her palm, she was momentarily shocked, figuring Helena would have locked the door behind her to keep this precise thing from happening. Helena was practically still where Myka had left her, still in the living room, but collapsed on the arm of a chair, forehead cradled in her palm until Myka’s entrance jerked her upright.

“Myka…” 

Myka didn’t give Helena a chance to say whatever was going to come next. Myka’s hands cupped under Helena’s jaw with enough force to draw Helena forward but gentle enough to not be jarring and pressed a fervent kiss to her mouth. It was hard and needy and immediately salt soaked from one or both of their tears, but Myka didn’t let it linger, instead pulled away enough to look Helena in the eye.

“You are everything. _Everything._ You aren’t a summer fling. You are life-changing. You are jump off a cliff I’m so crazy about you everything. I’m an idiot, a complete fool and I did not mean a thing I said.”

Tears tracked down Helena’s cheeks though a small smile tugged at her lips, “You probably meant _some_ of it.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “Semantics. You know what I mean. I didn’t mean it, Helena, _ever_.”

“I know, I knew the second you left. I’m sorry I told you to leave.” Helena kissed Myka again, a bit softer, whispering against her lips, “Thank you for coming back.”

“Always. I will _always_ find my way back to you.”

“Tell me we will figure this out.”

Myka’s heart clenched tightly at the worry and yet the _hope_ that was in Helena’s voice. Myka tucked Helena’s hair back from her face, smiling softly, “We will figure this out. I promise. I won’t lose you.”

“I will have to go…”

“I know…I know you will and I understand that…but I want you to stay, you have to know that. I know you can’t, but I need you to know I want you to.”

Helena nodded with a devastating smile, “I know, darling, and I would, I would in a heartbeat. You wouldn’t even have to ask.”

Warmth flooded through Myka’s chest, leaving a trail of her own version of hope in its wake. She wrapped her arms around Helena, holding her tightly, “We will figure this out…”

Helena sighed against Myka, but it was one of what almost sounded like peace echoing Myka’s previous words, “We will always find our way back to each other.”

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more details and context about life on the Island as the story progresses, but there's plenty of info out there if you want to check it out (or if you follow me on Twitter you can find all the pics I posted from vacation there this summer).


End file.
